


Deprivation of Freedom

by Nelalila



Series: Deprivation [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Bottom Peter Parker, Captivity, Dark Avengers - Freeform, Dark Tony Stark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Orgasm, Gaslighting, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Hurt Peter Parker, It actually gets really plotty, Kidnapping, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mind Rape, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Tony Stark Has Issues, Torture, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 35
Words: 105,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelalila/pseuds/Nelalila
Summary: After the heist, the Avengers and their friends enjoy their new lifes as millionaires. Struggling to survive the new horrors and challenges he has to face, Peter desperately tries to keep his sanity and plot his escape, only to end up feeling more and more hopeless with each passing day. However, when the walls start to close in on the people holding him captive, the boy finally sees a light at the end of the tunnel...
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship, Peter Parker/Tony Stark, past Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Deprivation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591717
Comments: 2325
Kudos: 1461





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to [Deprivation of Innocence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174362). If you don’t care to be spoiled about the ending (guess the story summary already spoils it anyway lol), you can read this chapter first because it’s just a prologue to the overall story. If not, you should read DoI in advance ;)
> 
>  **Caution! Read the tags** and only continue if you have don't have any problems with them. I will put separate warnings for individual chapters, but in the beginning, this will be little more than torture porn (it gets plottier in later chapters). I don't want anyone to get hurt by this! Tony is an evil bastard, and most of the other Avengers are as well. Nothing excuses their actions! You have been warned! If you want to read my "reasons" for this, feel free to read those [comments](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/show_comments?chapter_id=53244772) and my [notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104373/chapters/53308090) in chapter 4.
> 
> The first chapter will feature a short moment of **non-con (almost) voyeurism** between family members.

_Four days ago._

When May opened the door to her apartment, the first thing she noticed were the two pair of sneakers scattered on the floor, right in the middle of the small corridor. Next, she heard giggles, coming from the living room only a few feet away, followed by weird, somewhat slurpy sounds and a quiet moan.

 _Oh god._ Peter had no idea she’d got off work early. Those sneakers… she was pretty sure the NIKE pair belonged to Michelle.

For a few seconds, May simply stood there, frozen, still holding onto the half-closed apartment door, tempted to burst into the living room and… stop whatever’s going on in there, but at the same time, she didn’t want to embarrass Peter and his girlfriend more than necessary. Therefore, she quickly shut the door with a lot more force than she would normally have.

“Hey, honey,” she yelled loudly, not missing the squeak and panicked ‘sssh’ coming from the living room. “Y-You’re early,” Peter screamed back in a weird, high-pitched voice, and after mutely counting to seven, May slowly took a few more steps towards the room. “Yeah, Daphne wasn’t sick after all, so they told me to reduce some accrued overtime hours.”

“O-Okay, uhm, nice.”

When May stepped into the room, both Peter and Michelle tried to look as innocent as possible, but the color of their cheeks was of a deep pink and their hair was a little ruffled, not to mention Peter wearing his shirt inside out. “Hey May,” MJ greeted the woman shyly, and Peter quickly added, “W-We were just about to study for the economics test on Wednesday.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t want to _disturb_ you, so go on, don’t mind me,” May smiled meaningfully before walking into her room to change.

MJ left at five, and as soon as she was alone with her nephew, May cornered him in his room. “I heard some noises when I came home.”

Immediately, the pink color returned to Peter’s cheeks. “What noises?”

“Look… I don’t want to be the embarrassing, lame guardian here, but we need to talk about this. If you want me to trust you, you can’t just invite your girlfriend without me knowing and-”

Peter groaned. “Please, May…It wasn’t… we were just kissing. You don’t need to worry, all right?”

“Do you think I didn’t notice you wearing your shirt inside out right after I came in?”

The blush on Peter’s cheeks deepened when he started rambling. “Just because I was shirtless, doesn’t mean that we... I promise, May, nothing happened, we didn’t even touch-… oh god, can we please not have this conversation? I’m not… we haven’t been dating for long and… you know it’s my first real relationship and I’m also MJ’s first boyfriend. You have to trust me…nothing happened, I _swear!_ ”

“It’s all right, sweetie. I do trust you, but… sometimes things get heated a lot quicker than expected. I just want you to be careful.”

“I am, and I will be. Promise.”

“You can always talk to me, I hope you know that. You don’t have to be shy or embarrassed about it, so if you need condoms or anything-“

“Oh my god, May, _stop,”_ Peter grunted with a pained expression. “Can we just… cook and eat, please?”

May sighed, but not without a smile on her lips. Her baby boy was growing up, and there was nothing she could do other than hoping he’d stay sweet and innocent for as long as possible.

_Three days ago._

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Sorry, what?” Peter’s eyes were still glued to the screen of his smart phone, scrolling with his right thumb while trying to balance cereal on his spoon without spilling any milk on the table with his left hand.

“I asked if you could hop by 7-Eleven after school and buy the groceries I put on this list.”

Peter gave a somewhat annoyed sigh when he eventually glanced at the piece of paper May was holding up. “We’re on this boring school trip today and I don’t know when we’ll come back from that.”

May tried not to snap at him. “Well, you’re home earlier than me in any case, so it would be really great if you could help me out a little. After all, I have to clean, wash clothes, cook, and-”

“All right, sorry, I’ll do it, no problem.” A second later, Peter’s eyes were already back on the screen.

When May came home after her shift, she noticed right away that Peter had apparently _not_ gone to the store. In fact, he wasn’t even home, and when May tried to call him, she only reached his voice mail. Oh, he’d definitely be in for some trouble when he came back, she'd make sure of that. Half an hour later, May received a call, but it wasn’t her nephew. It was an officer from the NYPD. “Mrs. Parker, I’m calling about the incident at the Bank Note Printing Plant-“

“What incident?” May interrupted anxiously.

“You haven’t heard? There’s been a heist and… after speaking to Midtown High, we unfortunately have to assume that your nephew has been taken hostage.”

_Today._

May had barely slept the last three days. After the shock of finding out that Peter had been taking hostages, and especially after seeing her sweet baby with horrible bruises on his face, almost unable to speak because of his whole body shaking visibly, she’d eaten next to nothing, and if it hadn't been for Ned’s parents, she probably would have gone crazy already. They visited her yesterday and invited her over so she wouldn’t have to go through this alone anymore.

Now, at 12:32 pm, both women are sitting in front of the TV, watching the live reporting of the heist with bloodshot, burning eyes, while Kurt, Ned's dad, is preparing yet another pointless meal.

“What are they waiting for… they’ve had the helicopter for hours, why-“

Barbara’s interrupts her, crying again. “W-What if they killed everyone after the livestream?“

“They’re gonna be fine,” Kurt growls from the kitchen, “They just want money, they won’t kill anyone. Trust me, darling.”

May really wants to believe him but it’s getting harder by the minute, especially with the knowledge that her baby boy has already been beaten up. If, no, _when_ he comes home, May will make sure to pamper him as much as she can by cooking all his favorite meals and-

The women gasp when the TV abruptly goes blank, but a few seconds later it's already on again. However, there’s a new scene, showing a man in an overall and mask, straddling a smaller, apparently _naked,_ body, his erect penis right in front of… It takes May a moment to realize that the sudden, deafening noise sounding through the room is coming from her own throat, yet she can’t help screaming in absolute horror. The crying boy tied to a table, legs bent and spread, glancing fearfully up at his captor, is _Peter_.

_“…watch it on repeat as soon as we’re out of here. Now, Pete, since you asked me to fuck you, I’m wondering if you want to get my dick wet first or if you want it to be dry.”_

May’s heart clenches when her trembling nephew opens his mouth. _“All right, stick out your-“_

As soon as just seconds before, the TV goes blank again. While both women continue to stare at it in complete shock, Kurt hurries over from the kitchen. “What happened?”

May can’t bring herself to answer; something inside of her has shattered into a million pieces. Has that man....? He couldn’t… he can’t… it has to be fake, it’s not possible, it-.

Half a minute goes by before the TV studio is back, shamefully apologizing for what happened. “It looks like the kidnappers are streaming again and, uhm, I don’t know why we-… we deeply apologize for broadcasting something so inappropriate.” Then, the reporter receives new information through her earpiece. “It’s just been confirmed by the FBI that there’s indeed a new livestream shared on various sites all over the internet, showing… a clearly non-consensual sexual act between a supposed kidnapper and one of the hostages that might be Midtown High student Peter Parker...”

Kurt’s and Barbara’s gasps are the last thing May hears before she falls unconscious. When she comes back, she’s looking right at a paramedic putting a breathing mask on her face, and although he tries to prevent her from doing it, she rips it off immediately. "P-P-PETER!" In seconds, she's sitting upright, forced to clutch the paramedic's arm so she wouldn't fall over. Everything around her is spinning...

“M-May, it’s all right, stay calm," comes Barbara's voice from afar, "Peter… he was-he was seen on the roof with someone who was clearly N-Ned. They were… i-in the helicopter with the kidnappers but t-they’ve just landed and… we saw them getting out.”

“W-what?”

It’s too much confusing information all at once, but even though the paramedic tries to get her to lie down again, May pushes him away, staring at the TV screen. The studio is now broadcasting a live recording of an officer's body cam. They seem to be breaking through a door leading inside some old, industrial building... _Please let Peter be okay, please...!_ Her heart leaps when the officers storm inside, only to stumble across a bunch of frightened teenagers who're holding up their hands in panic. She's crying when her eyes fall on Ned; he's alive, and that hair over there looks like Michelle’s-

Their cries of relief get stuck in their throats when the girl’s hysterical, desperate scream causes everyone's blood to run cold. _“T-They still have P-Peter, save him, PLEASE!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, just a prologue, the next chapter will jump right back to Tony & Peter. I feel a little bad that it's so short, so I might update sooner than in a week if I can. Also, I decided to make Peter a junior just like he was in the last movie; it won’t be mentioned often though, so you can make him older in your head if you’re bothered by it. Thank you for reading :) If you liked it and want to get notfied about updates, make sure to subscribe ❤️


	2. One (Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, fast update because the prologue was so short :3

Steve is the last one to climb down. “I think they’ve broken through the roof door.” He quickly closes the lid of the submarine, causing Tony to snap at Loki. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get us down, _now._ ”

The man rolls his eyes and slips back into the captain seat. “I’m on it, relax.” Half a minute later, the tourist submarine Tony, Rhodey, Loki and Steve stole three years ago is completely underwater, being steered out of the warehouse slowly. It had taken Bruce almost a year to find an abandoned location not too far from the city that would both provide a rooftop they could land a helicopter on, as well as a deep, roofed berth, but without it, the plan would have been doomed to fail.

Nobody dares to sigh in relief yet, but after five more uneventful minutes, Tony asks Loki for his phone. “I have them in this bag, but Bruce said we should wait until we’re further gone, just in case they’re trying to intercept signals in the area.”

Tony grunts and glances down at Peter, crouching between two of the seats once used by tourists to watch the fish swimming by, shaking and crying silently. Only a second later, Natasha comes over, whispering in his ear threateningly. “You’ll let him go.”

Tony turns around and takes off his mask, not bothering to lower his voice even one decibel. “I can’t. He’s seen both me and Steve. Also, he’s extremely smart and already knows too much. I don’t think you want to risk getting caught just because I let him go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Peter’s head snapping up hopefully.

“And whose fucking fault is that? If you hadn’t taken him upstairs in the first place, he wouldn’t have known more than any of the others.”

“If I hadn’t taken him, I would have been forced to kill him. Actually, we might all be dead instead of sailing off to safety right now, because without him, I might not have been able to convince the other hostages to be obedient and follow our orders. ”

“By raping him in front of everyone, you mean? Oh yes, I know about that, you fucking piece of shit.”

Tony turns around to face his friends, flashing them an amused grin. “Okay, who was the snitch?” he asks with fake dismay, “Sam? I think I can rule everyone else out, so-”

Said man holds his hands up in defense. “Look, Tony, I-I didn’t say anything to her. I was laughin' about it with Steve; I didn’t know she was eavesdropping until she jumped me from around the corner.”

Tony tsks and glances back at the seething woman in front of him. “Aren’t you a sneaky little thing, _Natalia Alianovna Romanova_. Oh, sorry,” – He gives a fake, mean laugh – “I meant to say _Natasha Romanoff_.”

There’s a loud, distinctively terrified gasp coming from Peter when he seems to realize that he's in the present of one of the most infamous and most wanted criminals in the world, but it’s almost drowned out by the sound of a flat hand striking skin. For a few seconds, everyone is holding in their breaths, until the silence is broken by a loud snicker coming from both Steve and Rhodey, the only two people on this submarine who don't have to fear the man's wrath for laughing at him.

Tony’s cheek is on fire, but he hasn’t stopped grinning smugly. “Well, although I just _accidentally_ told him your real name, I’m sure you still want to let him go, right? I mean, it couldn’t _possibly_ endanger your little sister and mother, could it?”

“I-I won’t say anything, m-mam, please,” Peter begs from the ground, eyes boring into the slits in Natasha’s mask, “I-I promise.”

With a furious growl, Nat takes her mask off, glaring at Tony hatefully. “I fucking hate you!”

“No, you don’t. You still like me.”

The woman only huffs in response, chucks the mask down, and stalks as far away from Tony as possible (meaning a total of 40 feet), where she’s soon joined by Wanda whispering something in her ear.

“Does anyone else have any objections against Pete coming with us?” Everyone quickly shakes their heads. “Excellent. I guess you don’t have any problems taking off your masks too, then.”

Tony watches Peter closely when his men slowly start to show their real visages one by one, but apart from Natasha, only Clint’s and Bucky’s faces have gained worldwide fame. Clint’s known for the assassination of a few very important national and international politicians, and Bucky for murdering a few college girls and boys back in 2014, but the teen doesn’t really seem to recognize them; at least, not without hearing their names. Well, Tony will make sure to introduce them later, but first, they need to get on that fucking yacht. After a few more minutes, Tony grabs his phone from Loki’s bag, dialing a number.

“Y-Yes?”

“Guess who has reception twenty-two feet under.”

“Tony, thank god, I’ve been watching the broadcast, where are you?”

“Loki says we’re gonna be with you in about fifteen minutes. Do they have any clue where we are?”

“No… I mean, they’re trying to stop every boat and car in the area, but so far they have no idea where you could have vanished to. Almost every channel is reporting about your escape and… Tony, what the fuck have you been thinking when you… that boy is _sixteen_!”

The man glances over to the shaking kid. He’d figured he was probably around that age, although he looked so childlike that it wouldn’t have surprised him if he’d been even younger. “So?”

“It took most TV stations about ten to fifteen seconds to stop the enforced broadcast, and as of now, it’s still available on a few of those sites you hacked that haven’t been taken down by providers yet. Not to mention that people are actually sharing it on Social Media.”

Tony busts out laughing. “Oh dear.”

Bruce isn’t amused. “You should have spoken to me before you decided to rape a _child_ and make it available to basically the whole world. If they catch anyone of us, it will make the sentence so much worse.”

“Oh _come on_. We’re in for a life-sentence anyway and you can't tell me you'd been okay with in any case, underage or not. So don’t piss your fucking pants and send us your coordinates instead.”

After mumbling something unintelligible, Bruce actually does provide Tony with the coordinates of his current location before hanging up a little disgruntled. When Loki had set course for their new destination, Tony returns his friends. It doesn’t slip his attention that some of them are looking at Peter with a certain hunger in their eyes, and with a satisfied smug expression, he sits down in one of the seats before stretching his legs and placing them on Peter’s right shoulder. The boy nearly collapses under the weight, but seems too intimidated to throw him off.

Intrigued, Tony opens a web browser with the intention of finding the video, but to his utter disappointment, the signal is too weak to load anything in. His loud curse draws Rhodey’s attention. “What now?”

“Bruce said the video Steve and me had recorded with my footrest here is still online on some websites, but my signal is too weak to validate it.”

The boy’s eyes widen in horror and he lets out a broken whimper.

“You never told me what you had planned.”

“I’ll show you later.” Tony winks at his oldest friend, who sighs in defeat. “I’m not sure I want to see it.”

“It’s not that different to what you’ve already witnessed yesterday.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Rhodey groans, but it’s obvious that he’s not that upset considering the corners of his mouth are twitching a tiny bit.

They spend the rest of the journey mostly in silence. A mile before their target location Loki steers the submarine upwards, only to emerge from the water a few seconds later. “I think I can see them,” Wanda yells and points at a dot in the near distance. It’s a good location; far enough from the coasts and there don’t seem to be any ships around. After a few more minutes, they reach the rear of a big yacht, and as soon as ropes are tying the submarine to it, the Avengers climb up the ladder one by one until the only ones left are Tony and Peter.

“Get up.” The boy plays deaf, not even moving when Tony presses the gun to his temple. “You really want me to shoot you, don’t you?”

Peter’s voice is barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“You are aware that in about five minutes I’d be able to find out everything about your aunt that I needed to know, right? Where she lives, where she works… If you think we’re all gonna be chilling at some secret location for the rest of our lives, then you’re wrong. You know what they call Miss Romanoff, don’t you?”

“B-Black Widow.”

“Exactly. And why are they calling her that?”

“B-Because she k-killed a lot of m-men a-after…after s-seducing them.”

“That’s correct, but she’s also assassinated women, she’s not that picky. In fact, she will kill _anyone_ if the price is right. And do you also know that they call Clint Barton _Hawkeye_ because he’s hunting down his prey before shooting it from miles away without even getting seen himself?”

Peter looks up in horror. “T-That was-“

“Yes. And the one whose dick you sucked so greedily yesterday is James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I’m sure you’ve heard about one of the most notorious serial killer in recent years too, haven’t you? I doubt you want him or any of the others to pay a visit to your aunt or girlfriend.” Slowly, Peter shakes his head before struggling to get on his feet. He's barely up when Tony fists his fingers in his hair, forcing him to look him straight into the eye.

“You better remember who you’re surrounded by whenever you think you can be a smartass or some kind of heroic martyr. You belong to me, so the only one deciding over your fucking life from now on is going to be _me_. You won’t sleep, eat, speak or even shit anymore unless I allow it, you got it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to include more of the Avengers and explain what kind of criminals they all are etc (I’m a sucker for details and background stories)… Hope you're up for this and liked the first real chapter :) Important question right ahead for future chapters: should Tony share Peter again (at least every now and then and only for certain 'events'), or not? If yes, anyone in particular you would like to see him with? 
> 
> Thank you for your amazing support 🖤🖤


	3. Two (Peter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You amazing people spoiled me with positive reactions so I did my best to spoil you with another fast update :D Also, thanks for the input about my question; I haven't decided yet what I'll do but you'll see I guess :)  
>  **(Non-tagged/special) Warnings:** Forced Underage Drinking

Climbing up a perpendicular ladder with a throbbing leg and bleeding stomach is even more difficult than Peter thought. At first, he tries to pull himself up step by step with mostly his arm strength, but when he almost loses his grip, he has to accept that he’s way too weak for that. “Get a fucking move on, we don’t have all day,” comes Tony’s snarling voice from below before he actually pushes Peter up by putting both hands on his button.

After two more steps four hands are grabbing his wrists, pulling him upwards as if he weighted nothing. A second later, Norway has an arm around his waist and drags him over the swaying submarine until they’ve reached the small gap between the two boats. Steve jumps over, spreads his arms, and Norway simply tosses the boy over like he’s a fucking stuffed animal, causing him to groan in pain due to being manhandled so roughly. The other man catches him with ease, and while they’re waiting for Tony, Peter quickly scans his surroundings.

There’s a lump building in his throat when he realizes there’s nothing around them other than water. Sure, he can see the coast, but even if he were in the best of health, he would never be able to swim that far.

When Tony eventually emerges from the submarine, clutching a small device, Norway sighs. “Do we really have to sink it?”

“Since we can’t take it with us, yes. Cut it loose. I’ll blow a leak in it when we’re away far enough.”

As soon as the ropes are cut, the men walk over the deck, Steve dragging Peter along with them. When they enter the inside of the yacht, the boy can’t help gaping when he sees how many people are seated on the two big sofas on each side of the room. Have they all been in on this?

“I need a drink,” Tony greets with a dramatic sigh, and promptly, everyone is clapping and cheering. Well, _almost_ everyone. The Black Widow is gulping down a shot of golden liquid without even looking at Tony at all.

“You’ll never change, will you?” A man chuckles and gets up, only to pull Tony into a tight hug. Peter immediately feels sick. Who would voluntarily embrace-?

And then, he gasps in shock when the men turn slightly. The guy hugging Tony is _Bruce Banner_ , a genius scientist (he has what, five or seven PhDs?) Peter knew from magazines and science class. He had been working for the government until one of his rather dangerous experiments had failed, leading to a laboratory catastrophe that had cost a few dozen deaths. However, the charges against him had all been dropped without even a trial, causing experts to rumor about corruption in the justice system.

In horror, Peter remembers Tony mentioning that Ohio too was one of the smartest people alive. _Bruce Banner is Ohio._ It’s too much for the teenager. With a pathetic sob his already shaking legs buckle, and if it weren’t for Steve still holding onto him, he would have fallen to the floor.

“ _You brought him with you_?”

Suddenly, all eyes are on Peter.

“Told you there’s a surprise waiting for you,” Natasha growls before getting up and walking over to Bruce. “This is your fault too. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have to deal with this now.”

“Why didn’t you warn us? Now he’s seen my face,” an outraged black man with a strong accent yells, jumping up from the couch. Suddenly, more people are shouting, but Tony’s icy laughter shuts them up in seconds. “Relax, he won’t have a chance to tell anyone because I will take him with me. I won’t let him escape, so there’s nothing to be worried about, _Your Highness_.”

Your…Highness?

Bruce lets out a desperate sigh. “Tony-”

“Wait, lemme… Peter, do you happen to know who this guy is?” Peter quickly shakes his head, but it’s obvious that Tony doesn’t believe him. “You know I don’t like liars, kid.”

Oh yes, he knows. His voice breaks when he speaks. “B-Bruce Banner. Ohio.”

“See, I knew it. He’s a little genius, just like we are,” Tony grins, but Bruce only shakes his head weakly and mutters something about ‘starting the engine’ when he exits the room, Natasha by his side. “Now where’s my fucking drink?”

Steve drags the boy forward and shoves him down onto the couch next to the guy who Peter thinks is Harlem. Seconds later, Tony sits down on his other side, putting an arm around his shoulder. “I haven’t officially introduced Sam yet, have I? Sam Wilson – slut.” Sam smirks at the boy. “How’s it going, doll?”

Whereas Tony only snorts at the nickname, it sends an unpleasant trickle down Peter’s spine. “Sammy boy’s area of expertise before the heist has been providing the entire district of Harlem with the really _good stuff_ , if you know what I mean. Speaking of… I really wouldn’t say no to a nice little speedball.”

“I gave all of it to T’Challa in case we didn’t make it out alive.”

“Then move your fucking butt over and _get me some_.” Sam groans when he gets up and walks over to the black man Tony had called _Your Highness_ earlier. “T’Challa and his sister Shuri, she’s the one next to him, are children of T’Chaka, King of Wakanda, a country in eastern Africa. T’Chaka is a crazy old bastard with paranoia, trusting basically no-one apart from his own children. Too bad he doesn't know they’ve used their power and wealth to establish the biggest drug cartel in probably whole Africa right under his broad nose, and the eight million both of them made by helping us will-…Wait, that reminds me… _Where’s the fucking loot?_ ” He shouted the last words, gaining him everyone’s attention.

“We stored it down in the engine room,” a blonde woman with long, wavy hair eventually answers, “It was a lot of bags.”

“How much did we make?”

“One billion two hundred twenty-five.”

Peter’s gasp is drowned out by everyone cheering again. There are glasses with golden liquid being handed out by Steve, and a few seconds later, Tony jumps onto the small table situated between the sofas to make a toast. “To our awesome friends and accomplices who helped us execute the biggest heist of all times, and to us, the asshats who were insane enough to actually get into that fucking deathtrap! To new beginnings! Cap?”

“AVENGERS!”, Steve yells before pausing dramatically for two seconds. “Cheers!”

It’s apparently some weird inside joke because promptly, most of the criminals burst out laughing before yelling ‘ _Cheers!’_ as well. Almost immediately, Peter’s eyes wander over to the door. Should he try to make a run for it despite being surrounded by nothing but water?

He hasn’t quite made up his mind yet when Tony is already next to him again, pressing a tiny glass of the golden liquid to his lips, odor burning in his nostrils. “Drink.”

It’s not an offer, but a command, so Peter quickly opens his mouth and allows the man to pour the drink down his throat. It tastes ever worse than it smells, and the boy promptly falls into a terrible fit of coughing. Tony, Sam, and at least one more person are laughing, and before he knows it, there’s a second glass pressed to his lips.

“P-Please,” he tries, but Tony only smirks and forces him to gulp it down too. “When I was your age, I could drown ten shots of tequila and be hardly drunk. Wonder how you’ll do after … hm, let’s say, seven?”

“Judging by his petite stature, not too good,” an unfamiliar voice remarks snidely. A man with black-greyish hair and a goatee, not unlike Tony’s, but a little fuller, has come over, eyeing the boy with interest.

“You gotta know, don’t you? Strange, this is Peter Parker aka slut.” The teen quickly drops his head in shame and stares at his shaking fingers. Strange? Is that the man’s actual name?

“I figured,” Strange says dryly, “I’ve seen the video you streamed and couldn’t help but notice the carving you did on his stomach.” So he really did publish the video…god help him.

“Strange is, or rather, _was_ a doctor,” Tony explains to Peter, completely ignoring the tears slowly running down his cheeks before turning back to the man. “I bet you want to see it _in the flesh_? Pun intended.”

Strange chuckles. “I mean… if you happened to strip him later, I wouldn’t say no to take a look.”

“Oh I’d strip him right here and now, trust me, but there’s too many tits around. My gut feeling tells me that Nat isn’t the only one who wouldn’t support me doing it here. Also, after more or less sharing him with the whole world, I kind of want him to myself again…But I’ll let you catch a glimpse regardless if you want.”

Jesus Christ, is every man on this boat a fucking pervert without any morals or decency? Peter’s tempted to scream that he’s not some fucking _doll_ they can look at and undress however they liked, but a terrified voice in the back of his head tells him that this is exactly what they’re seeing him as.

Not even a minute later this seems proven when the teen is forced to drink a third shot, as well as a fourth and fifth. His mouth and throat are burning like hell and he’s afraid he’s going to throw up any second. His tummy is prickling weirdly and there’s an almost unpleasant hotness spreading from it through his whole body.

Nobody pays him a lot of attention for the next half hour or so, but soon, Peter realizes that his brain is starting to get oddly cloudy with confusing thoughts tormenting his already abused mind. For a moment he doesn’t even know whether he wants to cry or giggle, and it gets worse – or better? – after Tony and James Barnes – when did he come and sit with them? – make him swallow the sixth and seventh shot by forcing his mouth open, pouring the tequila inside, and clamping hands over both his lips and nose.

After twenty more minutes, Peter feels somewhat lightheaded, and a moment later, he’s standing – or rather, swaying - before he even knows when or why he got up. The first step directed to the door already has him stumble to the ground when his weak leg buckles, and he thinks there’s a nasty laughter when he groans in pain.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony slurs into his ear, picking him up. Seconds later, Peter feels his lips pressing against his own, and out of reflex, he opens his mouth. Someone’s laughing, someone’s yelling, but Peter’s incapable of understanding anything. Instead, a moan escapes his throat when he leans into the kiss, but it only takes his brain a few seconds to register what he’s doing. Promptly, he tries to push Tony off of him, reminding himself that it’s not Michelle, but his fucking rapist; he can’t let that piece of shit-

When fingers brush over his dick, Peter detects to his own horror that he has apparently gotten a boner from that single kiss. To his biggest misfortune, Tony has noticed it too. “Someone’s eager,” the man grins, grabbing the boy’s penis firmly now. “How about we go somewhere more private?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Another question) In contrary to the DoI, I really don’t have any idea yet where this story is heading or how long it will be (def. 10+ chapters).


	4. Three (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to take advantage of a drunk Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for voting! I’ll leave it open because this won't be ending anytime soon, but it’s good to see that the least popular options are also my least favorite ones ;)
> 
>  **Warnings:** Last time to leave if you’re still reading this despite not liking the tags! Rape/Non-Con  
> PS: I have no idea about yachts, so please forgive me for any nonsense lol

After Carol had told him which cabin is his, Tony drags Peter further into the ship’s hold. The boy tries to fight him, but even if he hadn’t been thoroughly slowed down and clumsy in his movements, he still wouldn’t have held a chance.

“Home, sweet home.” With a grin, Tony opens the second door to his right, shoving Peter into the tight cabin. It only contains a small bed and a few wall cupboards, but it would serve its purpose. “P-pleez,” the teen slurs when he’s thrown onto the mattress, but before he can even try to lift himself up, Tony’s already on him, trying to get himself and the kid out of their overalls as fast as possible.

Every now and then Peter tries to punch or kick him, but Tony barely feels it and continues undressing both of them unfazed. When he’s done, he can’t help noticing that the bandages wrapped around Peter’s thigh and stomach are bloody again. Maybe he really should let Stephen or Bruce take a look at it, but it would have to wait.

Groaning loudly, Tony crushes the small boy with his weight and starts kissing him wildly, grinning wickedly when Peter can’t suppress a moan, erection pressing against the man’s stomach. When Tony reaches down to touch it, the small hips promptly buckle upwards, despite Peter disgorging a weak _‘Don’t’’._ Not that Tony would give a shit, but it’s not convincing in the slightest.

“You really want me to stop stroking your fine little cock? I don’t think you do.” The man smirks when Peter grabs his arm and buckles upwards again, leaking a decent amount of pre-cum.

Although Tony knows very well it's the booze that causes Peter to subconsciously lean into his touch and not a broken, submissive mind forcing almost desperate, unbridled moans of his throat, the man’s tipsy and slightly drugged brain doesn’t care. Right now, he just wants to celebrate his victory by fucking the star prize and taking advantage of the fact that the alcohol seems to make his teenaged captive a little more willing than normally.

That’s the bad – and good – thing about alcohol. It tends to make people do stupid things, like getting into fights or cheating on their wives and husbands, agreeing to do dumb, dangerous dares, or committing small crimes for the first time in their lives, mostly starting with taking drugs or vandalism. Most of all, however, it seduces people to lose their inhibitions, meaning that Peter’s drunk, hormonal self would most likely not put up as much of a fight if Tony made him feel good, even though he would probably still refuse to voluntarily pleasure the older man if the action didn’t get him off too.

And this is the main reason why Tony won't get Peter drunk or drugged often. It will never give him as much satisfaction as breaking the boy will. No, it will be way more fun and enjoyable to tame the kid by torturing him until even the last bit of his defiant soul will have perished. He won’t stop until Peter’s body has turned into a willing, fragile shell focused only on pleasing and serving without wasting any more time pondering over a possible escape or suicide.

These sheer thoughts are enough to rip a hoarse, brutish growl from Tony’s throat, and he catches both of Peter’s small, bruised wrists in one of his hands, pinning them into the mattress before biting down on the boy’s exposed neck hard, sucking a hickey onto his soft skin. The teen cries out, whether it’s from pain or arousal, Tony doesn’t know, but there’s an unmistakable shiver running through the smaller one’s body squirming underneath him. “Now everyone can see you belong to me even when you’re hiding the amazing artwork on your stomach,” Tony grins as soon as he’s finished, admiring his work. He then stops jerking the boy off, snorting at the sound of protest coming from the Peter’s lips. “What is it?”

The teen’s tongue is faster than his brain. “Pleez I wan’…I wanna…”

“You want what, slut?”

Intending to reinforce his unclear request, Peter’s hips buckle upwards once more, trying to grind against Tony’s lower stomach while fighting to get his wrists out of the man’s tight grip.

“Are you actually asking me to touch you?”

Hesitantly, Peter shakes his head, but when Tony brushes his fingers over his tip again, he jerks, mumbling something that sounds like a weak ‘Yes’. If only the kid wasn’t wasted…

With a sigh, the man presses two digits against Peter’s hole and pushes in without warning, causing the boy to cry out in pain. Admittedly, if he were too drunk to feel this sort of pain, he might not feel the good stuff anymore either, but Tony wants, no, needs him to feel (mostly) good today. Keyword: Positive Reinforcement.

Fumbling for his mobile radio still inside one of the pockets in the overall on the floor, Tony requests assistance, hoping someone will hear him over the excited chatter upstairs. It really wouldn’t hurt to have some lube for his sore dick, and spit’s only good as a stopgap anyway.

He withdraws his fingers just when the door opens. “Did you ca- Oh god, don’t you have any modesty?”

It’s Scott, blushing at the sight of the two naked men in front of him before his gaze settles on Peter’s face disapprovingly.

“Don’t be so prissy and get me some lube. I’m sure one of those dickheads out there has one in their luggage.”

“You want me to ask them and bring- No, sorry, uh-uh, I-“

“No, Scott, _I_ don’t want you to bring me lube, _you_ want to bring me lube. Do you understand?”

Lucky for him, the man isn’t as dumb as he looks. “I uhm. Okay, I’ll-I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Turning back to Peter, he orders him to open his mouth. As soon as the boy has complied, Tony shoves his fingers down his throat. “You like that, don’t you? Tasting your own filth...”

Due to Peter’s drunken state it takes him a while to comprehend, but then-

Tony screams in anguish when the boy’s jaw snaps shut, catching the man’s fingers between his teeth. He releases Peter’s wrists and smacks him across the face with his clenched fist, once, twice, until the teen cries out, forced to let go of Tony’s fingers.

“You fucking little bitch!” The man gets even more furious when he spots teeth marks and a little bit of blood on his digits, hitting the crying boy again. “You better tell me you’re sorry _right now_ , or I’ll shove my whole fist down your ass next, got it?”

“’M sorrey,” Peter chokes out, bleeding from nose and mouth, “p-bleeze don’.”

Tony snorts and positions himself to rape the boy as brutally as the first two times, but then he remembers that he wanted to take advantage of Peter’s drunkenness, and tries to calm down instead. At least there’s something he could tease him with. “I gotta say, your pathetic begging makes you sound like a little girl, yet your cock is harder than ever. You sure you don’t want me to hit you again?”

“No, pleese.”

“No as in ‘you’re _not_ sure’?”

Peter seems so confused by the question that he starts crying again. _Great_ , he was supposed to be needy-drunk, not emotional-drunk. Fortunately, Scott chooses this exact moment to return with-

“ _Canola oil_?” Tony looks at the man flabbergasted.

“They didn’t really listen to me, so I, uhm, took a look around. That’s all I found. I mean, there’s also butter, but from personal experience I can only advise you against it because if it turns rancid while it’s still inside-“

“You know what, it’s fine, thank you. Now get the fuck out of here.” Scott pouts sulkily, but retreats regardless. “Jesus Christ,” Tony mumbles as soon as the door has shut close. Looking down at Peter, he frowns irritated when he realizes the boy’s about doze off. The hitting and alcohol surely didn’t help the weak state he’s been in already… This has sounded way more erotic in his mind.

After using the oil to get his non-injured fingers wet and slick, Tony pushes them back into Peter’s ass. The boy awakens with a jerk, and for a few seconds, he seems slightly disoriented before he starts to struggle.

“If you don’t want me to hit you again, you better keep still,” Tony growls threateningly. “Unless you want me to tie you up instead?”

Peter shakes his head quickly.

“All right, then stop squirming and relax. I know it hurts, you’re fucking sore and torn down there, but I can try to be gentle.”

Tony’s definition for “being gentle” means stretching the kid’s rectum for about fifteen seconds before already adding a third finger. He can see that Peter actually tries to behave and thanks to the booze it doesn’t seem to hurt him nearly half as much as it would normally have, but then the boy starts crying and pleading again. “It h-hurds.”

Tony guesses it’s useless to try and prepare him properly, especially because he can’t wait any longer anyway. “Okay, change of plans. I will make myself feel good first, but if you are a good boy, I’ll give you a reward afterwards. Do you want that?”

Peter doesn’t seem to have registered anything of what Tony has said; he just grunts in distress. Ferociously annoyed, the man pulls his fingers out, and flips the boy onto his stomach, ignoring the pained whimpers when Peter’s forced to lie on his injured lower abdomen and erection. He shoves a pillow between Peter’s hips and the mattress, and without wasting any more time or words, Tony puts oil on his dick and positions himself, spreading Peter’s ass cheeks apart before pushing in.

“F-Fuck, ye-yes, holy shit.” Although it’s so much better and easier with the lube, every movement still rips a scream from the boy’s throat. How can he still be so unbelievably tight despite this being the third time Tony’s fucking him in what, twenty-eight hours?

“It h-hurts, p-uh-lease!”

“Shut up,” Tony hisses and presses the teen’s head down into the mattress, muffling his screams. With his other hand, he grabs Peter’s right wrist and pins it down too, knowing the weak boy wouldn’t be able to do much damage with only his left hand.

The oil works better than Tony thought. Soon enough, he’s already all the way in and starts thrusting. Every few seconds he lets the boy catch some breath before pressing his face down into the mattress again. Pearls of sweat are dripping from Tony’s forehead but he doesn’t pause hammering into the tight sweet ass jerking underneath him even once.

After a few minutes, Tony can’t hold it back anymore. He moans in delight when he gives in, unleashing the pressure that has been building up in his balls. The pleasure spreading through his veins causes his whole body to tremble, cock pulsating and twitching as it’s shooting its load deep into the teen’s ass, filling him up once more.

Tony’s panting heavily when he withdraws and rolls over to lie down next to the Peter on the small bed. All of a sudden, he feels so horribly tired he could have fallen asleep on the spot, but after a few seconds he forces his body back into a sitting position and manhandles the crying kid on his back. His cock is red, tip smeared with a lot of pre-cum, looking like it’s about to burst.

“You enjoy serving as my fucktoy, don’t you, slut? Did you grind your dick against the pillow when I fucked your tight ass? Do you want me to reward you with your much-needed release?”

Peter’s bottom lip quivers as more tears escape his eyes and run over his cheeks down to his ears, but he stays silent. Until Tony gives his erection a tight squeeze, forcing a high-pitched whimper from the kid.

“Just ask me to touch you and I will do so... Come on, it’s just us two. Tell me what you want… I could torment you for hours without ever letting you cum, I’m sure you don’t want that, do you?”

After three more short, evil strokes, the drunk teenager gives in. “I-I need…p-pleasze.”

“What do you _want_ , Peter? It will stay our little secret, I promise.”

“T-Touch, pleese touch m-me.”

“Nice, obedient _slaves_ get rewards from their masters… always remember that, kid.”

After wetting his fingers by dipping them into the cum-oil-mixture leaking from Peter’s hole, Tony starts pumping his dick. It only takes about twenty seconds until the boy’s needy moans sound through the small cabin, his body trembling violently. Before Tony can remind the teen about asking for permission to climax before he comes, the dick enclosed in his rough hand pulsates, squirting out white drops of sperm. How unfortunate.

Sighing, Tony wipes his hand clean on the sheet and pushes the panting boy against the side of the bed bordering the ship wall. He turns off the light, drops down next to Peter and closes his eyes before muttering one last warning. “Kick me off the mattress and you’re sleeping in the fucking engine room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never written drunken rape before… 🙄Don’t worry though, as stated, Tony won’t get Peter drunk again for now, and no, Peter **won’t be into it all of a sudden**. He still tried to fight it, after all ;)  
> 


	5. Four (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking advantage of Tony being fast asleep, Peter tries something rather stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’ve recently received criticism about the explicit dark content of this, I do feel the need to emphasize that I don’t want any of this happen to anyone in real life, and I most certainly would never inflict it on anyone or support someone who would do anything non-consensual to another human being. For me, fiction is fiction and fantasies are fantasies... But if you want, rest assured that my potential fantasies would have more to do with what is inflicted on Peter rather than what Tony is doing (a fine, but important difference!). I will still always admit that this disgusting, horrible Tony IS fun and interesting to write, though, for various reasons… I enjoy writing him just ike I enjoy reading about or watching other scary villains in books or movies/series.
> 
> If you have any problems with this, PLEASE don’t read it! It is NOT my intention to write this for any potential rapist or abuser who needs inspiration on what to inflict on their real life victims!! I’m writing this for people dealing with things, letting them live out their fantasies (whatever they might be), or for their plain “entertainment” without any deeper reasons because they just like horror/torture fiction.

When Peter wakes up, he can feel many things at once, and not one of them is in any way pleasurable. There’s so much pain… his head, his ass, his whole god-damn body is both aching and weirdly numb at the same time. He feels horribly nauseated and sick, but he’s also hungry and ferociously thirsty? And then there’s the desperate urge to pee. Where the fuck is he even? The last thing he remembers is-

Peter sits up with a start only to regret it immediately. Now the pain’s even worse and although he can’t see anything, everything seems to be spinning, almost as if he’d just gotten off a rotating thrill-ride on Coney Island. A loud snore coming from a few inches next to him confirms Peter’s worst fears.

It wasn’t a dream. Tony really had kidnapped him, gotten him drunk and… The urge to throw up gets worse by the second, and suddenly, Peter’s aware of the stench of booze and _sex_ filling the air. Whimpering, the boy tries to remember any details of what Tony had done to him… is his mind playing tricks on him or had he actually _begged to be touched?_

Intoxicated or not, this would be completely inacceptable and disgusting. He can’t ask his rapist to touch him without being forced or coerced into doing it, no matter whether his weak, despicable body thinks it’s appropriate to enjoy it or even believes it _needs_ to be touched. Peter tries to fight down tears of shame and fear - fear of what Tony will do to him next.

Just when the panic threatens to overwhelm the boy, Tony gives another loud snore. Only now he actually realizes that his captor is _asleep,_ whereas Peter himself is awake and, more importantly, _unrestrained._ He can’t just sit here, wallowing in self-pity, without trying to escape or at least, without calling for help, can he? Didn’t Tony have a phone with him earlier?

Pain is setting his veins on fire when Peter tries to get out of the bed without touching the older man next to him, but he grits his teeth and somehow manages to put his foot down on the floor, first the right one, then the left. The soft material underneath his toes had to be the overalls, so Peter quickly crouches down, trying to suppress a whimper when he can feel cum leaking out of him once again. _Don’t think about that right now. Focus on finding the phone and getting the fuck out of here._

That’s easier thought than done, though. The fog and dizziness in his brain has increased and Peter almost loses his balance for a few seconds when he fumbles around for the phone. Nothing. It’s either not here or he can’t find it in the dark. Maybe the yacht has some kind of emergency phone or radio out in the corridor or common rooms?

Finding the door in the tiny cabin turns out to be pretty easy, so Peter quickly grabs one of the pieces of clothing on the floor, gets up and fumbles for the doorknob. For a few seconds, he actually has to hold onto it to prevent himself from falling over, but even when the sensation of giddiness and the throbbing pain in his right leg has finally improved, Peter still hesitates, heart racing. What if anybody sees him? How late is it, are the others even asleep or…?

Fuck it, he has to try it. He can still claim he’s looking for the toilet if he’s caught.

Carefully, Peter opens the cabin door inch by inch, praying it won’t make any noise and wake Tony up. The boy sighs in relief when he can’t hear any chatter or footsteps close by. In fact, the yacht is oddly quiet considering there are what, about twenty people on here? Sidling through the gap in the door, Peter steps into the corridor before closing the door behind him slowly. Opposite of him and on his right, there are a few more white doors, probably leading to other cabins. To his left, there are stairs, leading to the upper deck and although he’s scared shitless, Peter carefully limps over.

After tying the overall around his waist to hide his bottom and groin from anyone who might catch him sneaking around, he struggles to get up the stairs as quietly as possible. There’s no door separating the living room (?) from the stairs, and Peter gulps when he spots Sokovia, Hawkeye and the “Strange” guy sleeping on the sofas. Great.

There’s a pitch-black darkness outside of the windows meaning it is probably after nine or ten already. Peter tries to fight down tears when his thoughts are drifting to May. She has to be worried sick… he misses her so much… he’d do _anything_ to be able to hug her right now.

With a silent snivel, Peter limps further into the room, eyes promptly wandering to the door leading outside. Should he try to…? No, unless he wants to kill himself, jumping into the ocean in the middle of the night is out of the question, and for now, he’s definitely taking Tony’s dire threat of sending one of his assassin friends to hunt down his aunt or friends seriously.

Then, he sees something that causes his stomach to do a somersault; a phone, laying on the table in-between the sofas, and before Peter even knows what he’s doing, he’s already snatched the device. For a few seconds the boy’s waiting with bated breath, but the three sleeping criminals haven’t moved an inch. They’re probably all half-dead given the numerous empty bottles of booze lying around…

There’s another flight of stairs leading to another deck, but just when Peter decided to try his luck, he hears a deep, quiet voice coming from above. In panic, he quickly limps down the stairs leading to the lower deck again, gritting his teeth when his aching leg protests. Where should he go now? He notices a small label attached to the door at the end of the corridor, and after hobbling a little closer, Peter manages to make out the words “Engine Room”. It would be a good place to hide in until help arrived.

Speaking of… although the locked phone gives him access to the emergency lines, he’s impeded of calling for help because there’s no signal. Of course, there isn’t. Is he the main protagonist of a fucking cliché horror movie? Peter urges himself to stay calm, though… the phone could still catch reception as the yacht moves along, there’s no need to lose his head.

About six feet in front of the engine room, Peter suddenly hears a noise coming closer. _Footsteps!_ It’s too late to limp back and hide in Tony’s room, so Peter, panic-stricken, stashes the phone between the overall and his hip bone, hoping it would not fall-

The boy flinches when the door opens. Staring at him is Natasha Romanoff, blatantly stunned at the sight of him. “I-I…I’m l-looking for…for t-the b-bathroom,” Peter squeaks, shaking like an aspen leaf, completely aware that he has to look horribly guilty.

The Black Window eyes him suspiciously, but then her gaze moves from Peter’s bruises on his face to his naked chest, where it lingers on a few of the cuts and the bloody bandage. Without a word she eventually points behind Peter. His heart skips a beat when he realizes that he moved passed the door with a “faucet” label attached to it.

“O-Oh, t-thanks, I…I m-must have missed that.”

The woman keeps quiet when she follows Peter, who quickly slips inside the bathroom. There’s a tiny shower, an even tinier sink, a toilet and a mirror, causing the boy to wince in horror. There had been a mirror in the office bathroom, but his face looks even worse now than it did who-knows-how-many-hours-ago. He hardly recognizes himself anymore with all the bruises and blood covering most of his face.

Shuttering, he averts his gaze, and since his urge to pee has dramatically increased anyway, he decides to use the toilet, making sure to clean himself from Tony’s cum and whatever the fuck he used as lube as well as possible by using toilet paper and water from the sink. Peter takes his time to finish and checks the phone again, only to almost burst into tears when there’s still no signal. Can he risk staying inside for a few more minutes or-

“What the fuck is taking you so long,” sounds Natasha’s muffled voice from the other side of the door, and Peter knows it’s no use claiming to be taking a shit or whatever, he stuffs the phone into one of the overall’s closeable pockets and hesitantly opens the door.

His stomach twists nastily when the woman glares at him. “Hand over the phone.”

Peter flinches so horribly he almost loses his balance. “W-What? W-what ph-“

“ _My_ phone. The one I left on the table ten minutes ago.”

“I-I don’t-“

“You think I’m an idiot? Smarter and stronger men than you have tried to fool me, kid, and not one of them survived their little stunt. I don’t want to hurt you, so you either hand me over the phone or I’ll take that fucking overall.”

It’s no use lying anymore. Peter knows she doesn’t want him to be here, that she doesn’t endorse Tony abusing him. He has to give it a try and call upon her humanity.

“A-All right, I… I took it, but t-there was n-no signal… P-Please, don’t tell anyone, Ma’am.”

With shaking fingers, Peter fumbles the phone out of the pocket and gives it to the snorting woman. She immediately checks the call log, blatantly relieved when she can’t find any new entries. “What the fuck were you thinking? I can’t keep this to myself. These people are my friends, and I have a family to protect. I can’t risk any of them getting caught or hurt because of you.”

“Please, Mrs. R-Romanoff, I w-wasn’t intending… I-I just w-wanted to call m-my aunt a-and… t-tell her I’m o-okay. _Please_ , don’t say anything. H-he would hurt me again.”

Natasha looks down at Peter compassionately. “Sorry, kid, but I can’t trust you, not after the stunt you just pulled…I won’t risk my life and family over your ass. I-"

Natasha's cut off by someone coming down the stairs - another woman with thick, dark hair and a skin tone similar to Michelle's. She's looking from the phone in Natasha's hand to Peter, and back again, frowning. "What the fuck did you do?" She's glaring at the Black Widow, who looks ready to kill at the implied accusation. 

"Nothing. He stole my phone and tried to sneak into the engine room. He didn't make a call though, so it's all good. No need to make a fuss about it, nobody has to know." 

" _All good?_ Are you out of your mind? If you're not telling Tony about this _right now,_ then I will." 

"If he tells anyone anything, I'll lose everyone I hold dear, so I'll make sure it never happens again. You just have to trust me on this. You don't know the details of what Tony is doing to him, so-" 

"I have a general idea, considering all that's been said, but then he shouldn't have tried to rat us out. I can't Thor get hurt, sorry."

Peter tries to swallow back the bile rising in my throat. "P-Please, Ma'am, I-" 

The woman flashes him a cold, unforgiving look. "TONY! Get your fucking ass here!”

Peter cries out in despair and tries to duck back into the bathroom, but Natasha grips him around the arm, flashing him an irritated, pitiful look. 

The boy doesn’t try to fight her, but he's shaking from fear when some of the doors are smashed open and footsteps are coming down from upstairs. It takes a few more moments until Tony appears, sleep-drugged, angry, and naked except for a pair of boxers he must have put on hastily. “What is he doing here?” he snaps at the other woman and Natasha, who only huffs and loosens her tight grip on Peter's arm. He almost tumbles.

“You might want to keep a better eye on ‘He-Who-Won’t-Have-A-Chance-To-Tell-Anyone’, considering Nat just caught him trying to sneak into the engine room with her phone.”

Lowering his gaze, Peter whimpers when everyone starts to yell, some at Tony, but most at him. Feeling angry and defensive, he decides to snap at Natasha. “What the fuck was he doing with your phone?” 

“I left it on the table, but don’t blame me for this," the woman snaps. "I didn’t think you’d let the boy stroll around as he pleases. Instead, be glad I checked while he was taking a piss or he’d still be holding onto it now.”

“She’s right, Stark, he’s your responsibility,” Strange says, before the Wakanda prince adds, “Make sure he’s confined and under control or I’ll kill him.”

It’s enough to have Peter breaking into sobs. How can they all be so fucking cruel? “I-I…I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “P-please, sir, d-don't do this.”

‘ _Pathetic’_ Bucky whispers to Steve, who gives a short, approving chuckle in return. But then, Peter’s head snaps up when Norway's black-haired brother speaks up. “Pathetic? What do you expect him to say, ‘yay, please lock me up and kill me’?”

“Do you always have to take the fun out of everything?” Bucky rolls his eyes, “Prison did you dirty, where’s your spirit gone to?”

“Don’t you worry about me, I’m haven’t lost ‘ _my spirit_ ’, but this is stupid. If you don’t mind, I’m going back to bed, good night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Natasha huffs, glaring at Tony, “One more thing, though: you better not treat him too badly or I might just let him bust your fucking ass next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really like how this turned out, hm. Hope it was ok? 
> 
> Regarding my rant in the notes about the criticism: I want to keep writing this, but I feel a little MEH about everything right now. Do you want me to make it less explicit? I’ve written explicit smut and torture because this is a work of _horror_ , of _terror_ , so I want readers to "feel" what Peter does. It’s always possible to skip the most brutal parts because of my chapter warnings… IDK I just feel a little bummed I guess. And it's my birthday tomorrow and my boyfriend and friends are all busy or sick :/
> 
> Edit 30/01: I don't deserve you guys 😢 I wanted to update before my vacation starting today but I was too stressed... I'll try to update from my vacation!


	6. Five (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enraged about Peter’s attempt to call for help, Tony wants to try a new form of punishment.

After Loki had closed his door, most of the others vanish as well, until the only ones left are Tony, Peter, Bucky and Steve. Tony chooses to ignore Natasha’s mostly empty threat (after all, she could never trust Peter not to bust her or anyone else’s ass too) and glares down at the boy, completely furious. “Sneaking into the engine room, huh? You know, I really wanted to be a little nicer to you, but congratulations, you blew it. Steve, Bucky… Since our guest seems to want to go down there so badly, I don’t see a point why I should force him to sleep in my warm, comfortable bed. Bring him down…I’ll be with you in a sec.”

It’s obvious that Peter doesn’t want to be locked away in the engine room, but it almost seems as if he thinks that sleeping in a bed with Tony is equally as horrible. _Just you wait you little cunt._ It will take them three more nights and three stops for fuel until they arrive at the island... He’ll make sure the boy will be begging him to let him sleep in his bed when they’re there.

Back inside his cabin, Tony opens the cupboard where he finds one of the suitcases he’d left with the others a few days ago, and quickly puts on a bland tank top. Afterwards, he goes back in the common room and looks for the bag he left there after his arrival. Armed with a roll of duct tape, a knife, another bottle of water and a pair of earplugs, Tony eventually walks down into the noisy engine room. Only to freeze in awe when his eyes catch sight of a few dozen, if not more than a hundred, gunnysacks and tote bags filled with bundles of one-hundred-dollar notes. Although he’d had quite a bit of money for most of his life, this is something different… _Ho-ly shit._

“Still seems unreal, doesn’t it?” Steve says, flashing him a fond smile. “All those years you sacrificed have eventually paid off.”

“And yet you always tried to talk me out of it.”

“You know why I did that.”

Bucky is looking at them questioningly, but Tony has no intention whatsoever to elaborate on this, especially not in front of him. _Or_ _Peter._ Speaking of… the little shit is once again sitting on the floor, staring at the bags with blank, bloodshot eyes. “Get him over there,” Tony says and points at a white-lacquered pole a few more steps further into the room. At first, he wants the kid to be naked, but then decides against it. The overall that’s wrapped around his waist would help at least partially with the inevitable mess.

Peter seems to know what’s about to happen when Steve and Bucky make him lean against the cold pole. “Please, s-sir, my-my wrists really hurt.” _Oh, now it’s sir again, isn’t it?_

“Should have thought about that before you tried to rat us out and bolt. Drink this.” He hands him the 25 oz water bottle with a cold, hard look.

“W-What are you p-planning on d-doing with me, s-sir?”

“ _Drink. It._ ” With shaking fingers, Peter reaches for the water and unscrews the bottle top with difficulty. He drinks, but stops after gulping down half of it. “Everything. Trust me, you want it.”

Peter’s fear is almost tangible when he forces it all down. Afterwards, Tony orders him to move his arms behind the pole and uses a decent amount of duct tape, first only on the boy’s wrists, then on the pole as well. Next, he wraps it around Peter’s mouth and head, and then…

“Close your eyes.” In panic, the kid shakes his head vigorously and tries to plead despite being gagged, causing Bucky and Steve to chuckle. “If you leave them open, you’ll risk your eye socket getting hurt. I doubt you want that.”

Keening, Peter eventually closes them, and Tony makes sure to use short strips on the eyes at first before wrapping the tape around his head once more. “Our journey will take a few more days to complete, and until then, I want you to think about what you’ve done and what you could have had instead of this. If you had behaved. In case you’re suffering from a blackout, I told you earlier that obedient slaves get rewards. I kept my word and rewarded you with a nice orgasm after you begged me for it so well-behaved and like the petty little slut you are, only to have you disappointing me again. Therefore, you’ll be treated and punished like a disobedient, defiant slave. I hope this helps you decide on how you rather want to be treated in the future.”

At this point, Peter’s close to hyperventilating, and it gets even worse when Tony roughly squeezes the earplugs into his ears. Although the noise coming from the engines is quite loud already, he wants to make sure that the boy can hear nothing apart from his own tormenting thoughts.

Muffled, desperate screams follow the three men when they exit the engine room to get some more rest. Back in the corridor, Steve tells Bucky to go ahead and leave him alone with Tony for a second.

“What?” Tony snorts at the slightly wary look Steve throws him. “Don’t tell me you’re taking pity on the kid all of a sudden.”

“No,” Steve chuckles, “I don’t care, but… now that you mention it, I do forget sometimes how scary you can be.”

Tony waits for his friend to continue, but he stays silent. “Is that…all?”

“What exactly are you planning on doing with him?”

“Continue what I started. Have him please and serve me for as long as I want. Why?”

“It’s just… I haven’t seen you so attached to anyone before.”

_“Attached?”_

“Well… you know what I mean… Normally, you tend to get bored pretty quickly.”

 _Ah, so that’s what this is about._ Seriously? “You’ve felt his tight little ass. And you can ask Bucky what his mouth feels like, but don’t be sorry if he ends up telling you it’s sweeter than yours.” With that, Tony struts back into his cabin, banging the door shot. _Fucking Rogers._

After a few more hours of sleep, the Avengers and their friends arrive in the common room in dribs and drabs. Most look hung over, Tony, however, feels oddly alert. The nightly fuss seemed to have sobered him up quite a bit.

Tony sits down next to Clint, grabbing the freshly brewed cup of coffee Carol hands him. “Where’s your little plaything?” Clint yawns and looks at Tony with bloodshot, tired eyes.

“Locked him in the engine room.”

Bruce sits down at Tony’s other side with a stern expression. “Have you seen the news yet?”

“Nah. I have no idea where my phone is. What are they saying?”

“His face is the first thing you stumble across whenever you click on any news website or open any Social Media app. The whole goddamn US is looking for him. If anyone catches sight of him-“

“How, Bruce? How would anyone see him? As I said, I locked him away now, and I won’t let him out again until we’ve arrived at the island.”

“Still, you should have never taken him with you. As much as it hurts me to say, you should have killed him. Also, everyone is still freaking out about the video, and-”

“Ay, I thought you were planning on showing it to us,” Clint interrupts eagerly, causing Bruce to sigh in defeat and Tony to smirk. “Lemme take a shower first and then I can try to find it.”

“Don’t you have it on Steve’s camera?”

“Actually, that’s a good point, but…” Tony forgets what he was about to say when he glances over at Steve, who does indeed seem a little sulky.

“But?”

“Nevermind. I’ll be back in a few.” After finishing his coffee, Tony gets up and leaves. The shower and toothbrush are enough to make him feel like a new man, and twenty minutes later, he’s seated in the lounge in the upper deck near the bridge, surrounded by Clint, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Quill and Stephen.

Bucky connects the camera he has obtained from Steve to the flat TV screen, and a few seconds later the film starts up. Tony doesn’t give a shit that his dick is largely displayed for everyone to see. He’s never bothered about it in the first place, and now that god-knows how many people have seen it anyway, it matters even less.

“Holy shit,” Sam groans, followed by a few approving grunts of the others; only Quill seems a little uncomfortable. Stephen, who'd already saw the video yesterday, reminds Tony of his promise to show him the carving. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone that until we’re there. Sorry, Strange.”

Watching himself fucking the kid is truly a delicious sight and soon enough, Tony's pants are way too tight. If only he could go down and fuck him again, but with the current punishment he wants to isolate Peter completely at least for the rest of the day, so doing that is out of the question. He could probably also rule out Steve right now, and since he doesn’t have any intention of hooking up with any of the others, Tony returns to his cabin alone after the film’s over.

He’s already started to jerk off when he remembers Bruce mentioning that Peter’s face was all over the internet. Quickly, he grabs his recovered phone from the narrow headboard and connects to the yacht’s own WIFI. The connection isn’t fast, but it’s enough, and thirty second later, Peter’s most recent yearbook photo has loaded in, eliciting a gasp from Tony. It must be the first time he’s seeing him smile. _He’s fucking gorgeous._ Sorrow floods through the man when he can’t help but notice how innocent, joyful, and yet shy and insecure Peter looks. Most of that is gone already... He doesn't feel guilty, but it’s devastating to know that he won’t be granted with the delight of taking his innocence ever again.

Tony decides to skim through the article. _“The hostage crisis occurring in the American Bank Note Printing Plant came to a devastating finish yesterday, leaving five hostages dead, two injured…Group calling himself ‘The Avengers’ … As of yet, no sign whatsoever … Hostages forced to help them printing money and sending the bills through pipes of the old pneumatic system … According to surviving hostages, Peter Parker, 16, Junior at Midtown Highschool of Science and Technology, has been kidnapped by the group after already facing repeated sexual assault during the hostage situation. Yesterday at lunchtime, a video had been broadcasted by all major tv stations due to a tricky hack… available on various websites until the late evening … showing a forced sexual act between the leader of the group and young Peter Parker…Neither Peter Parker’s guardian May Parker, nurse at St. Mary’s Hospital in Queens, nor any of the hostages have yet agreed to an interview …”_

Attached, there is a picture of Peter and a woman even someone as Tony can only call _fucking hot._ According to the caption, the woman is indeed May Parker, but what’s even more interesting is the name of the Instagram profile linked to it – “p.p4rk3r”.

Seconds later, Tony has opened the account, cheering inwardly that the boy hasn’t set it to private. He has a fucking shit ton of followers, but it’s apparent they’ve all gathered during the last couple of days. His latest post from five days ago - a beaming selfie with his fucking girlfriend and the cheesy, nauseating caption _“so incredibly lucky to have you <3” - _has thousands of likes and comments; promises to pray for him, to find him, encouraging him to stay strong, telling him how sorry they feel for him. And yet, there are also hateful comments, probably from trolls who are desperate for attention, calling him a faggot or a whore for sucking Tony’s dick and ejaculating during the rape.

Tony makes sure to screenshot a bunch of those before they’ll eventually get reported and deleted, already anticipating showing them to Peter someday. Then, he finally gives his dick the attention it’s been craving for, without taking his eyes off the boy’s adorable, bright smile even once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't deserve you guys... your kind words made me tear up and gave me a confidence and motivational boost. Thank you. Really. Now I feel like this chapter doesn't even quite make up for you and how grateful I am, but I thought it was time to give Tony more backstory (there's more to come). What Tony’s doing to Peter is one of my biggest fears to be honest, but it’s not that uncommon for prisoners to be held captive like that though, so, uhm... Also, I'm posting this from the USA because I'm on a 12-day-vacation :) I have a second chapter more or less finished and on my phone (did I mention you motivated me a LOT??) so if I find time to edit and go through it again, I might post it soon too.


	7. Six (May & Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May is updated on her nephew’s ordeal; Peter suffers from Tony’s latest cruel punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Mentions of body fluids, though not in a sexual context and only briefly (adding some unfortunate realism). Anyway, this really is my biggest nightmare… Also, slightly longer chapter due to a recap of past events that probably isn’t that exciting :’) I do want (and promised) to take the one or other glimpse into the outside world, though. Hope there aren't too many typos in this because I had to write about 1/3 on this on my phone.

Twenty-four hours. She’s been sleeping – _sedated_ – for almost a whole day.

Daphne and Emma, two of May’s nurse colleagues looking after her, had refused to tell her anything apart from Peter still missing (“Some news about the heist are confirmed, some are just rumors. The FBI said we shouldn’t talk about it with you because… well, uhm, they said we should call them when you’re awake.”) but now, Mrs. Scott, a female officer, and Denise, a woman from the crisis intervention team are seated around her hospital bed, giving her a brief update and informing her that Peter’s classmates and teacher are being treated in the same hospital due of malnutrition and shock. “I’m about to speak to Miss Jones and Mr. Leeds after my visit with you, and… it’s not normal procedure, but both of them said it would be fine if you were present during the questioning. Is this okay for you?”

“O-Of course, I-I need to know about P-Peter, _please_. Do you know if he's alive?”

“I think he is, but as I’m sure you’ve heard, we haven’t been able to locate him yet. For now, we still don’t even know how the _Avengers_ managed to exit the warehouse they had landed on, but we did find some fuel in the boathouse, meaning the coast guard is checking as many ships and yachts as they can.”

“J-Just tell me if… if that man really-”

Mrs. Scott’s lowers her gaze. “Unfortunately, there’s no doubt that he did. The video…it hasn’t been edited… we think they already shot it in the morning and created a fake live stream to lure us in at their preferred time, so there was no way we could have prevented it from happening. I’m sorry.”

May silently cries for a few minutes, but then, waves of boiling anger hit her like a tsunami. “You could have rescued them earlier, but you didn’t do anything! You just-“

“Mrs. Parker, there were bombs on doors and windows, and it was impossible to distinguish hostages from kidnappers. There would have been a lot more casualties if we had tried to go in.”

“ _M-More_ casualties?”

“One hostage was shot when the kidnappers fired out of the helicopter and four more had been shot the day earlier. Also, before you're finding out through the news… Some hostages have reported that there’s been another case of sexual harassment involving your nephew and other kids from his school, straight before they did the second stream.”

 _Oh my god._ Had her baby already been abused when she saw him that day? Was this the reason he had been crying so much? “H-Have you identified any of the criminals yet?”

They haven’t, but Mrs. Scott says that Ned and MJ might have information that could help them. Ten minutes later, May embraces both of them tightly, crying just like they are. It takes them a while to calm down, but then the two teenagers sit down on MJ’s bed, surrounded by their crying parents, May, Mrs. Scott and Denise. Mrs. Scott tells them that this is not a formal interrogation; that one would take place when they’re better, but she had to ask them a few important questions before even more time passes. “Some of your classmates mentioned that Peter Parker might have told you vital information about one of the kidnappers?”

“He said the leader’s name was Tony,” Ned says quietly, “The one they called Manhattan. He said that he was 40 to 50 years old, and that he was very smart-“

“One of the smartest people ever gotten their IQ tested,” MJ corrects. “And he has brown eyes and a Van Dyke goatee. One of the others, we think _Brooklyn_ , is called Steve, and he is between 30 and 40, blond hair, blue eyes.”

“All right, that’s something…hopefully. If that man has gotten tested officially, we might have a shot at finding his records. Please keep this information a secret until we know more, to make sure the kidnappers are not alerted by any news reports. Do you know why they told Peter these things?”

“N-No, but... they probably never intended to let him go... It probably started the f-first night already,” Ned mumbles, gaze lowered.

“W-What do you mean, ' _it_ '?” May interrupts panicky and listens horrified when MJ tells them that Peter had tried to protect her from one of the men touching her. He had been blamed for the riot that followed and had almost been shot before getting taken upstairs by _that man_ , only to show up with bruises hours later. “A-And then…D-During the n-next day…th-they…” MJ starts sobbing so violently that May’s worst fears seem confirmed.

Ned takes over again and brokenly tells them that the hostages had tried to defy their captors, so Tony used Peter to set an example. _They raped him._ Tony and the guy who had touched MJ the previous night. In front of everyone. And then they did more cruel things… forcing Peter to choose a student to lick up the _sperm_ her poor, brave baby boy had spit out. May doesn’t blame him for naming the classmate he liked least instead of MJ, but she knows how horrible and guilty Peter must be feeling about it. Her mind goes almost completely blank afterwards, and she only hears some bits and pieces of the other cruel things they had him do.

“I-Is it true they h-hurt him again the n-next day?” MJ eventually asks, “a-and streamed it?”

When Mrs. Scott simply nods, the girl has a breakdown similar to the one May had, forcing them to stop the questioning.

Hours later, when May’s already back home, she eventually looks up news about the heist; only to regret it immediately. There are rumors indeed. Rumors that Peter’s shirt and pants had been found in the director’s office, cut up and destroyed. Rumors about blood and traces of sperm from more than one individual. Reports that her nephew had been brought to an orgasm while he was being raped. And the cuts on Peter’s stomach… May hadn’t noticed it during the few seconds of the video she had seen, but apparently, they formed the word _SLUT_.

It’s too much. She can’t take even one more second of it, so May prays, for the first time in months, if not years. They had to find her baby boy. Alive and... not more injured and hurt than he already is.

* * *

Peter has lost every sense of time. Being tied to this pole, completely blinded, unable to hear anything apart from the distant sounds of the engines, the blood rushing through his veins and his rapidly beating heart, subjected to the chilly air teasing his mostly naked skin, is ten times worse than being tied up in a warm, mostly carpeted office with a clock.

Despite everything that has already happened to him, Peter doesn’t know if he’s ever been more scared. How long would Tony force him to sit here, deprived of almost all his senses? He can’t possible keep him like this until the ‘ _journey ends in a few days’_ , can he? The boy shivers and tries not to start crying again. Not that the tears would go anywhere. No, they’d just wet the tape around his eyes and get his lashes even stickier.

Although Peter’s whole body is aching and itching from being once again restrained in this horribly uncomfortable position, the fatigue and general weakness he feels causes him to doze off every now and then, letting him escape this torturous hell for a few hours (?) at least.

However, soon enough, thirst, hunger and other bodily needs are the only things Peter can think about. Once again, he tries to rip the layers of tape wrapped around his wrists, even though he already knows it’s useless and would only waste more of his remaining strength. After a few agonizing minutes of struggling and tearing, he gives up, panting and sweating.

Peter spends the next minutes – hours (?) – switching between feeling sorry for and hating himself. Why did he have to be so stupid and have even Natasha hate him now? If he’s honest, he can’t even blame her. He really shouldn’t have taken the first possibility to-

He almost suffers a heart attack when suddenly, he feels something touching his face. The boy let’s out a muffled scream and flinches terribly, but then he realizes that there’s a cold thingy trying to get between the duct tape and his skin. It had to be Tony, probably asking him if he’s already changed his mind. Although Peter hasn’t, he would apologize and promise to be good from now on, hoping it would be convincing enough to be freed from his restraints.

As soon as the tape is cut through and painfully ripped from his lips, Peter speaks in a raspy voice. “Plea-“ SMACK. He yelps, right cheek burning from the harsh slap. “S-Sir, pl-“ SMACK. “Wha-“ SMACK. And then, Peter finally understands. He’s not supposed to talk.

Something’s pressed against his lips, a water bottle, presumably, and when Peter opens his lips, relief washes over him when the cool liquid pours into his mouth and down his throat. There’s a weird crackle in his eardrums every time he swallows and even though Peter knows he’s drinking too fast, he gulps down as much as he can and lets out a desperate whine when the bottle’s eventually taken away from him.

Before he can think about whether he should try and speak again, another metallic thing – a spoon? – is pressed against his lips and he’s fed a mushy substance tasting like bland porridge. Peter doesn’t care what it tastes like. It’s food and it’s neither dry toast nor those cookies, so he greedily swallows the three, five, eight spoons he’s allowed to have.

Seconds later, a new tape is sealing his mouth shut, and Peter’s once more overcome with panic and despair. Tony can’t leave him; he didn’t even tell him when he’d be back! And… Peter really, _really_ has to… Jerking his hips upwards, the boy hopes his captor gets the hint just like Wednesday morning, but when minutes go by without anyone laying a hand on him again, he’s convinced Tony has indeed walked away, eliciting muffled wails from him.

Peter tries to distract himself by counting minutes, but when he’s reached twenty-seven, he has to accept his defeat. Unable to resist any longer, he’s breaking into useless tears when he can feel a warm liquid drenching the fabric of the overall tied around his private parts and bottom, eventually wetting the floor he’s sitting on as well. The last time something like this had happened to him had been the weeks following his parent’s death, but here he is, a high school junior, unable to control his bladder. Although Peter knows it’s technically not his fault, he can’t help feeling horribly ashamed and gross.

However, the worst part is that it takes an eternity until another sudden touch causes him to flinch yet again, and when he tries to talk, he’s slapped like before (yesterday? How long has he been tied to this pole? He lost all feeling in his wrists and fingers ages ago).

Something presses against his lips after the water bottle, and when fingers are gripping his jaw tightly, Peter realizes it’s not food. It’s meaty and smells like- He coughs when Tony pushes his dick into his mouth and down his throat (is it even Tony? Peter almost hopes it is because the feeling of someone he doesn’t even _“know”_ doing it is even worse for some weird reason?), but since the technique and _taste_ is rather familiar, he’s pretty sure that it is indeed Tony.

It doesn’t take long for the man to spill his seed inside the boy’s throat, but then he tapes his mouth shut, leaving the boy isolated and alone once again. To his utter horror, his penis starts to get hard out of nowhere minutes later, and soon enough, it’s obvious that this is not a normal erection. It’s almost painful and feels different to anything that Peter has felt before. Eventually, he gives in and performs a variety for contortions to try and find release, but it doesn’t work, forcing him to sit there and take it. It lasts _forever_. By the time it's finally faded away, the boy is drenched in sweat and confusion. Has Tony drugged the water?

He’s completely isolated until Tony (it _is_ him – he wears the same cologne like last time) comes back another eternity later.

They fall into some kind of routine, giving Peter at least some sense of time. Every second visit he receives food, and every third he has to endure Tony fucking his throat before being drugged with Viagra or some other terrifying drug that has him suffer from an agonizing hard-on that won’t go away for hours no matter what Peter tries to do.

During one of those visits the boy has the feeling that another person is present when Tony abuses his throat, but fortunately, nobody else touches him. Sometimes he tries to speak or plead, especially when he feels another, even worse bodily need building up, an urge even more terrifying than having to take a piss…

But Tony doesn’t give in, not even when Peter’s dirtier than he’s ever been. How can the man still get his dick hard when- _Don’t think about it!_ It’s the only way to stay at least partly sane.

Sometimes he gets a little sea-sick, but thankfully he never really feels the need to throw up. Thrice, the boat comes to a stop, each one lasting about four to five-thousand seconds, but nobody ever comes to rescue him. Nobody. Is anyone even bothering to look for him? What if they think he was in on the plan in some way or offered to flee with them because was in love with Tony or some shit? If they saw him climaxing during the rape, they probably-

 _He’s back!_ Peter can feel the floor vibrating slightly. It feels like more than one pair of feet… It’s Tony’s eleventh visit, but this time, the tape isn’t removed from his mouth. Instead, the ear plugs are finally taken out, causing the boy to almost cry in relief when he hears a voice – _Tony’s voice_ \- for the first time in what feels like _years._

“I’m sorry slut, but we can’t tolerate you besmirching this room with your disgusting filth anymore. After all, we keep our loot in here.”

Seconds later, Peter’s _hands are cut loose._ Although he still can’t move them even one inch because they’re numb (or probably _dead_ ) _,_ he lets out a relieved, rather pathetic sob. Tony will take him upstairs again and if he begs for it, maybe he will be granted a shower or at least water from the sink...

Rough hands belonging to strong arms lift him up, and Peter wishes he could move his own hands and rip the itching, burning tapes off his face, but he forces himself to stay still and not squirm. _Don’t anger Tony anymore. Whatever you do, don’t anger him anymore._

They move upstairs, down the corridor and then up into the living room (if he remembers correctly). Where is Tony taking him? Then the boy smells and hears something new. Fresh air. Salt water. Waves… A bad sense of foreboding seizes hold of Peter, so he starts wriggling, trying to plead through his tape, but Tony only grabs him tighter, snorting. “Sorry, kid, but I have no further use for a dirty little bitch like you.”

And then he’s falling. Falling until his body hits the water, and he’s immediately pulled down into the dark depths of the ocean when his numb arms, floating uselessly by his sides, fail to function.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was very _different_ , even in writing style, but I wanted to make it different in an effort to try and emphasize the new, somewhat unique punishment Peter has to endure. If you didn't like it, don't worry - everything will be back to normal next time, and then there's actually more plot/content I hope lol. Now please wish me a safe flight back to Germany (Monday evening) because I am really scared of flying and my boyfriend is only making fun of me 😫


	8. Seven (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers arrive at their new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to post a list of the bad guys for a while now: Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Rhodey, Thor, Natasha and Wanda did the heist. Bruce was the guy talking to the police and to Tony via phones. And the ones helping them with the tubes and to escape etc were Loki, Stephen Strange, Peter Quill, Brunnhilde (Valkyrie), T'Challa, Shuri and Carol.

Forty seconds. Forty damn seconds and the boy still hasn’t been able to swim or simply _push_ himself up. Admittedly, he’s not exactly tall, but the water is so shallow he should be able to touch the ground after sinking like a few feet, right? Also, it’s not like his hands were still tied…

Sighing, Tony shouts at the others to go on and eventually jumps from the boat. He swims over to where he dumped the kid before diving down and grabbing one of Peter’s slack arms. Okay, it’s a little deeper than he thought, so he tugs and pulls the boy with him until at least Tony can stand.

“Thought I’d give you a nice little swim to get you cleaned.” He gives an evil chuckle and fumbles with the wet tape sealing his captive’s lips. As soon as he’s ripped it off, Peter’s thrown into a terrible fit of coughing, struggling for air. When the tape comes off his eyes, he immediately tries to open his lids, only to gasp and squeeze them shut again. “Yeah, better leave them closed, it’s fucking bright.”

Peter tries to talk, but Tony can’t understand shit; his voice is too hoarse. “Can’t you move your arms?” Whimpering, the kid shakes his head, and then he starts sobbing. _Badly._ His whole body is jerking in Tony’s grip, chest hitching with trembling breaths when he struggles to get in more air. The man slowly wades over to the shore where he sets the kid down. He immediately collapses, hitting the wet sand with his back.

“Feels good to lie down again after four days of sitting, doesn’t it?” Tony teases, glancing to the various big cuts on Peter’s body, glistening red in the bright sunlight, tormented by salt water. It must burn like _hell_. The bandages are gone but the besmirched overall wrapped around his hips has survived Peter’s fall into the ocean. He has to get rid of it. The others are furious enough about the state the engine room is in. Well, _shit happens,_ right?

Tony rips the overall off and leaves Peter lying on the beach naked, not bothering about him escaping; there’s nowhere to go unless he wants to drown himself, and since he’s just gotten a taste of it, he might not be too eager to experience it again anytime soon. After curling the overall up into a ball, Tony moves over to the long jetty and watches the yacht put in. Good thing that the water over here is deep enough for grounding.

Natasha is the first one to get off. “You’re fucking disgusting. I won’t go down there.”

T’Challa isn’t pleased either. “I have to give the yacht back in Nassau in two days, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have him clean up the mess,” Tony smiles with an evil grin. “I just need to wait until he can move again, but you’ll be able to return it nice and clean. You can also have ten grands from my share to settle any potential problems.”

Since most of his friends refuse to go into the engine room, Tony decides to help Steve, Clint and Quill carrying the bags upstairs. Clint doesn’t mind these sorts of things at all; he’s actually asked Tony once to accompany and watch him fuck Peter’s mouth, and the other two at least act as if they don’t. Things between him and Steve are still a little tight, but during the last few days the blonde man has started to make an effort to make it better again.

Yet, he can’t resist mentioning Peter when they’re standing on the railing, smoking, taking a short break from their exhausting work. “Wonder if the kid has changed his mind about disobeying.”

The four men look at the small figure still lying flat on the beach, probably fallen asleep from exhaustion. Good for him that it’s become rather cloudy, or he’d probably get quite a severe sunburn.

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll lay down a few rules later.”

“Such as?” Clint asks interested.

“Like not receiving a cut when he’s begging me to touch him.“

“It will still be forced then, though, and not out of free will.”

“That’s not the point. I’ve used to cut him as punishment, so now I’m going to _not_ do it as a reward for begging. I can’t only rely on pure force if I want him to develop Stockholm Syndrome.”

“You want him to _love_ you?”

 _Here we go again…_ “When have I ever wanted anyone to love me, Steve? I want him to want me feel good. And I want him to want me to make him feel good.“ When the other three are only gaping at him baffled, Tony rolls his eyes. “In short: I want him to respect, desire and like me enough to stop looking for ways to escape or commit suicide. He won’t be broken if he’s just enduring all the time. He has to _want_ it, to initiating it, because there’s a fine, but important difference between _letting things happen_ and _making things happen._ I’ve done some research-”

“On what? On ‘ _how to train a slave’_?” Clint chuckles, but Tony ignores him. “I just have to find the right combination between punishments and rewards.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t punish him at all?” Quill asks.

“No, because I still want him to fear me. He has to know what he _doesn’t_ want to find out what he _wants_. Also, it’s too much fun to be nice all the time. I’m not looking for a fucking boyfriend or husband, so I don’t need him to show me affection. I need him to give me pleasure and obedience. And I can only reach that through breaking him. He has to accept his new purpose in life, but not in his; in _mine_. His life doesn’t matter anymore.”

“How poetic and insightful,” comes Loki’s voice from behind the men, dripping with sarcasm, “I can’t wait to watch you try and fail.”

Tony can’t help but grin. Ever since Loki has come back from prison, he’s been quite cheeky indeed. Lucky for him, he’s too loyal and shrewd to get rid of. “Oh yeah? Give me a month and he’ll be as good as mine. A loyal, needy little lap dog.”

“What’s my reward if I end up being right?”

“What’s your cut? Twenty million? I’ll give you another five. And you can have him for a week. As long as you don’t fuck him without my concent, kill him, mutilate him or set him free, I don’t care what you do.”

“I’ll certainly take the money, but since I guess having to go without him for a week will hurt you more, I won’t say no to that offer either. What do you want from me?”

As arrogantly as he can muster, Tony snorts and says, “You have nothing interesting to offer. Being right is reward enough for me.”

Under their friends watchful eyes, they seal the deal with a rough handshake before going back to work for two more hours. The last thing Tony grabs are his suitcases and backpack before leaving the yacht for good. Peter’s still lying on the beach, but he’s now curled into a ball, facing him.

“Hey, get up now, I’ve let you be lazy long enough.” The boy squints, eyes probably still sore, and struggles to get back into a seating position. His arms seem to be working all right now, but his wrists look _horrible_.

Peter stands up, but he’s swaying a little, and his legs shake worse than Tony expected. After five steps the kid already tumbles and gives a weak croak when he’s ordered to get up. “C-Can’t”.

“Then crawl. I’m not gonna carry you again. Get a move on or I’ll pull you after me with a fucking leash.”

Whimpering, Peter obeys and bows his head in shame when he notices that some of the others are only a few yards away. After the first laugh and whistle he tries to get up, only to tumble against Tony, but before he could have fallen down again, Natasha and Carol – apparently taking pity on him – have rushed over closer and grab Peter’s arms to keep him steady.

“Did I allow you to help him?”

“Don’t be such a fucking dick all the time, Tony,” Nat snaps and, ignoring his outraged expression, they start walking the kid towards Tony’s new house. The Russian woman has always been impertinent, which was one of the reasons they had always gotten along well, but if this continues, Tony’s going to have a little chat with her.

He walks into the house just in time to hear Peter mumbling a thanks and hoarsely _apologizing_ to Nat for _disappointing her_. Huh. Weird. “Okay that’s enough. Out, now,” Tony ushers them out and makes sure to lock the door before towering in front of the teenager slouching in one of the dining table chairs. “Welcome to Bonefish Cay.”

Peter just stares, even when Tony bares his teeth. “Okay, slut, let me make this clear once and for all. I can make your life _really_ miserable. I can carry this table outside and put it on the beach where nobody cares if you make another mess. I can leave you there for a whole year if I want, and have my men help me make good use of your holes twenty-four seven. Do you want that?”

The boy quickly shakes his head, pupils narrowing as if trying to flee from the expanding whites of his eye. “N-No, I’m sorry. I’ll b-be good.” His voice is so sore that Tony feels the need to unscrew a water bottle and hand it to him. He leaves the boy alone while he’s struggling to get the bottle up to his lips by jamming it between his wrists, and takes a closer look at the small house.

It’s nicely furnished and apart from the living-dining area it has one bedroom with a closet, one bathroom, and a small storeroom. It’s just like in the pictures he’d seen. The unpowered chest-freezer in the storeroom provides Tony with a fantastic idea, but first… “Hey, how are your fingers doing?”

Not too good, apparently; they’re trembling and twitching, and it seems impossible for Peter to fold them into a tight fist. Annoyed, Tony calls Stephen over.

The kid fixes a spot on the floor when the former doctor enters the house and – despite everyone already seeing him naked anyway – moves his arms in front of his groin as if to shield it from view. Stephen’s unfazed; he sits down in a chair in front of him and simply grabs his wrists, his own fingers giving their occasional twitch every now and then. “Doesn’t look too good…it will take a few more days to get better. Don’t tie him up again and don’t make him do anything that will make it worse.“

“So no hand jobs?”

“No hand jobs.”

Tony isn’t pleased. “Well, I guess I can live with that, but he has to do some cleaning tomorrow. It can’t wait.”

“Then he’ll have to find a way doing it without grabbing anything too tightly. If you don’t give them some time to heal, you might as well cut his hands off for how useful they’re going to be.”

Peter whimpers but seems too intimidated to say anything.

“All right, if you say so… Can you patch up his cuts? I don’t want to have to deal with an infection.”

“Right, the carving,” Stephen muses and glances down on Peter’s stomach, causing the boy to squirm a little. “It looks lovely, but the cuts on his leg…” The man grabs Peter’s ankle and moves his leg up onto his thigh. “I’m afraid three of those are slightly infected, but it’s not that bad. Two of the pills a day I’m going to give you will do it. But you should still stitch them up – all of them – or you’ll have to be careful for a while longer. It will scar nicely anyway.”

Five minutes later, Peter is lying on the table, surrounded by Tony, Stephen, Clint, Sam and Steve. “Can’t you at least cover his dick? I’m getting hard,” Clint grunts, eliciting a panicky squeak from the boy.

“Don’t be so fucking thirsty, just hold him down,” Tony urges. Peter’s shaking like a leaf under Tony’s grip around his right leg, but he seems to know better than to try and fight them off. The first few times the needle goes into the skin on his stomach, the boy only twitches, biting down on his lip to withhold from screaming, but then he can’t seem to hold it in anymore.

“Give him something to bite down on _,_ ” Stephens eventually says through clenched teeth. When Sam finds a small pack of hankies on the counter, Peter opens his mouth voluntarily before sinking his teeth into the soft material, almost biting through it. Tony can't help being reminded of the time when Steve amateurishly stiched up his bullet wounds and for once, he doesn't feel like mocking the kid for the pain inflicted on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonefish Cay: [Bonefish Cay](https://www.vladi-private-islands.de/en/islands-for-sale/caribbean/bahamas/bonefish-cay/), being up for sale for seven million dollars at the moment :D Imagine it like this, just with a few more houses and a jetty leading to deep-enough water for a yacht ;)  
> I'm actually very excited that they've finally arrived, hope you are as well? :)


	9. Eight (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony lays down some rules. Peter finds out some gruesome details about his captor's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also wanted to put in a short THANK YOU again for everyone reading and supporting this. To those I haven't heard from in a while now and who've told me that life's been hard on them or overly stressful: just in case you're seeing this, I hope you are doing well and that life will soon get easier or better again. If you ever feel the need to talk or vent, you can add me on discord (nela-is-strange#3883) or write me a messege on [ my tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thenelalila) 💙 Same goes for anyone, of course!

Peter doesn’t know how long Strange has been patching up his body, undoubtedly pricking him a lot more often than he would have needed to thanks to his fingers twitching every now and then, but when it’s finally over, he’s thoroughly exhausted. Weirdly enough, some very tiny part inside of him can’t help feeling a little thankful for Tony finally taking care of his wounds, but the bigger, sane part reminds him that he wouldn’t even have needed medical treatment if the fucking asshole hadn’t hurt him in the first place.

To Peter’s greatest relief, Tony sends the others away after they’re done, and even carries him over to the sofa before wiping the table clean himself. The boy isn’t so naïve as to think that Ton has had a sudden change of heart, but the appearance of Strange caused him to remember what he’d been thinking about while he was locked up.

Strange had called Tony “ _Stark”_ in the yacht corridor a few days ago, and with nothing else to do, Peter had tried to figure out if there’s any farfetched chance that Tony might be related to _THE_ Stark family. Established in the 19th century by engineer Isaac Stark, Stark Industries had quickly become the largest US weapon manufacturer, growing its business even more during World War I and II and the Vietnam War. The company would probably still be extremely successful today if it hadn’t been involved in the biggest business scandal in all of New York’s history.

Somewhere In the late 80’s or early 90’s, it was revealed that Isaac’s son Howard, who successfully ran the firm after his father’s death, had established a horrible side business… human-trafficking, with connections to the Mafia. As far as Peter remembers, Howard Stark had committed suicide before the authorities could have arrested him, but…he had a son, hadn’t he? Peter doesn’t think he ever learned his name, but he clearly remembers his teacher saying that the son had been outstandingly smart, even more so than his father and grandfather, and that he had graduated college before he even turned eighteen. He can't believe he had been _impressed_ by it once.

Peter knows it’s farfetched considering there must be a hundred, if not a thousand “Starks” living in Manhattan, but Tony’s apparently not only extremely smart, but also the leader of this group of cold-blooded criminals. There must be a reason why they respect him so much, and growing up with connections to the mafia would surely help with that. And then there’s the pleasure he finds at abusing and raping Peter…

“Come here, slut. I want to show you something.”

With a groan, Peter sits up and lifts himself off the sofa, slowly stumbling over to where the man is standing. He can’t help it; he’s forced to clumsily hold onto Tony’s arm for support. The man first shows him the very comfortable looking bed before dragging him over to the storeroom.

“I want to lay down a few rules. Number _one_ : you’re going to sleep in _this_ ” – to Peter’s utter horror, Tony’s pointing at an unpowered _chest-freezer_ – “unless you’re asking me for permission to sleep in the bed. Number _two_ : If you're sleeping in my bed, I get to touch and use you however I please, meaning you won’t fight back, follow my orders and behave like a good slut. Number _three_ : If you ask me to touch you and beg for permission to cum, you won’t receive another cut if I actually do let you cum. Cum without permission and you’ll be punished. Do you understand? Any questions?”

“W-W-Will you t-touch me outside of the bed too, sir?”

“Not if you’re sleeping in the chest. During the day, however, I obviously get to do what I want. You’re only alive to serve as my entertainment, never forget that.”

Peter grits his teeth, wishing he could throw every single insult at the man he could think of, but the words coming out of his mouth instead, are - “Why me?”

Tony blinks, apparently taken off-guard. “What?”

“Why did you… do all this to me? I’ve never been popular like the other kids in my class, I’m just a f-fucking nobody. A loser.”

“It doesn't matter what you once were. You're a slut now, _my_ slut, to be exact, chosen and _marked_ as special by me out of all these kids in your class. As always, pun intended. That’s why I keep saying you should thank me. And I chose you, because you were the most fuckable, innocent-looking little thing I had ever seen, with a face and body literally begging to be broken and torn apart.”

If Peter hadn’t known before, he would certainly have proof now. Tony’s fucking crazy, the devil in persona; compared to him, even some of the worst fictional villains seem almost sane and thoughtful. Peter can’t help it. He’s shaking with rage and fear, and the words are out before he’s thought them through. “Is this what your father’s business has taught you or have you been like that from the beginning?”

It’s probably the boy’s fortune that Tony’s too flabbergasted to kill him right then and there. “Wait, what? What the fuck are you talking about? You have no fucking clue who I am, so-“

“I know who you are,” Peter lies, taking his chance, “because of that Strange guy.”

“What strange guy?”

“ _Strange._ The one who just stitched me up. He called you _Stark_ a few days ago.” Tony’s eyes widen in surprise, pretty much confirming Peter’s assumptions. “At first, I thought it was too far-fetched, but… the heist surely cost a lot of money, didn’t it? And all these people you know… I guess you didn’t meet them randomly on the street. Therefore, I figured out that you’re Howard Stark’s son who had taken over his side business after his suicide.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Tony looks outraged, furious even, but also somewhat _impressed_. “You know what? Since you’re never going to leave this island alive, I might as well tell you. Yes, I’m Howard Stark’s son, but that’s about the only thing you got right. I didn’t take over his business and” – the corners of his mouth curl into a mean, satisfied smirk - “my father didn’t commit suicide. That’s just what I wanted everyone to think. No, slut, the one who pulled the trigger and distributed my father’s cerebral matter all over our living room carpet was _me._ ”

Peter flinches so hard he lets go of Tony’s arm, causing him to tumble backwards and fall down. Knowing that Tony killed hostages he didn’t give a shit about is one thing, but knowing he murdered his own father, mob boss of a human trafficking ring or not, is another.

The boy gulps when Tony crouches down before him, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I always make sure that everyone gets what they deserve, sunshine. My father deserved to die, just like you deserved to be locked up and punished. Don’t you agree with me?”

It’s obvious what Tony wants to hear. “Y-Yes.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me, why did you deserve to be punished?”

“Because I stole Mrs. Romanoff’s phone.”

“Do you think the punishment was appropriate?”

Peter chooses his next words wisely. “Yes, sir… because I learned my lesson.”

Tony lifts one of his eyebrows. “You did, huh?” Smirking, he takes his phone out of his pocket. “So you would not call for help if I gave you this and exited the room?”

Another test. He has to be careful now... “As I said, t-the punishment I received was for stealing the phone, sir. I-If you gave it to me, then…I-I don’t know, sir. You shouldn’t trust me with it.”

Tony gives a chuckle and puts the phone away. “I admit that wasn’t so bad. We will have a fun time together, I’m sure of it. But I swear to you, if you ever talk back to me again or mention my father one more time, I’m going to cut off your dick, stuff it in your fucking mouth and fuck you with my knife until you bleed to death. Understood?”

“Y-Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now make me something to eat, I’m hungry. There are some groceries in-” Sighing, the man gazes at Peter’s hands. “Forget it, I’ll do it myself. I’ll go easy on you the next couple of days, but in return, I expect unmitigated obedience, you got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You're really lucky I have such a big heart. Now wash yourself, I want you nice and clean. _Everywhere._ ”

Peter blushes at the implication of Tony’s words. “T-Thank you, sir, b-but…my fingers…”

“Are you asking me to assist you with washing your body?”

 _Oh god, no no no no no no_ \- “I-I-I…” _Fucking shit._ “I-If you could m-maybe turn the water on, I-“

“Nice try. We’ll take a shower after eating. Together. Sit on the sofa until I’m done preparing the meal.”

 _Good fucking job, Peter._ He doubts that taking a shower will be good for his fresh stitches, but Tony wouldn’t care either way, so why bother mentioning it to him?

After sitting down, the boy entertains himself by watching Tony prepare scrambled egg. It smells so delicious… he hasn’t noticed how hungry he is until now… What he would give to have a bite of that… The knife Tony uses to cut slices of bacon gives Peter hope. He might not be able to use it the next couple of days, but maybe he can get a hold of it when his fingers are better… Then, he’d kill that fucking bastard (killing someone like Tony can’t be that hard, right?) and try to find a policeman or _someone else_ on this island who’ll be able to help him.

When Tony’s finished, Peter’s mouth is watering and he can’t help whimpering when the man sits down on the table to eat. He’s ignored for a total of five minutes before Tony eventually bothers to look at him.

“Hungry?”

“Yes, sir. V-Very.”

“You can have my leftovers if I get something in return.”

 _Naturally._ “W-What should I do, sir?”

“Surprise me.”

It’s obvious what Tony wants, and Peter knows exactly what he’s trying to do. First, the stupid rules, and now this… it’s all pointing towards one thing: manipulating him into thinking he ‘wants’ to be abused and get used to it. Classical Conditioning, Positive Reinforcement, _Stockholm Syndrome…_ Peter is well-educated and not exactly stupid (although he admits that he’d made quite a few mistakes lately), so Tony can try all he wants, he will never succeed. Question is, if Peter can forget his pride and at least act like he’s falling for it, just to make his life less miserable and increase his chances of escaping… even if it means prostituting himself for meals, beds, and to avoid punishments…

Peter’s voice is a mere squeak when he’s finally come to a decision. “I-I can…I can try to p-pleasure you, sir.”

“I admit it would be nice to get a little heated up before the shower. Start.”

With a feeling as if he’s just sold his soul to the devil, Peter drops down on his knees, inwardly begging everyone he cares about for forgiveness. After ten seconds of trying to open the pants with his useless fingers, he gives up. “Can you, uhm, please open your p-pants, sir?”

“No. I can stand up until you’re done, but the rest is on you. Be creative… what do you have teeth for?”

Judging by his aroused expression, Tony’s deadly serious, so Peter doesn’t dare to object. It’s embarrassing, and knowing he’ll soon have to do something even more disgusting makes it worse, but he tries. And tries. The scrambled eggs are probably cold by the time Peter’s teeth and tongue have managed to open the button of Tony’s jeans. Getting the zipper down is easier, and by sliding both of his hands beneath the hem of Tony’s pants, he eventually gets both jeans and boxers down.

Wishing for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, Peter drops back on his knees between Tony’s spread legs, bends over his lap, and opens his mouth. However, before he can pull his lips over the tip of Tony’s penis, the man stops him.

“I think it’s time you start to put in a little more effort if you want me to do you a favor.”

“W-What do you mean, sir?”

“I’m tired of having to fuck your mouth all the time. You have a tongue… use it. You won’t get anything from me unless you treat my dick as if it’s the most delicious candy you ever had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to Tony's back-story but it might be a while until we'll find out more. I want to emphasize that I don't have any intention of anyone feeling sympathy towards him, but I just don't believe people are simply born evil (and I'm a sucker for back-stories).


	10. Nine (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony demonstrates that he's still very much in charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning!!** Graphic rape, edging.  
> There’s actually some kind of purpose for it because it’s part of a mental showdown sort of, but you can still skip it (the whole chapter, basically, I’m so sorry) if it makes you uncomfortable. I know Tony said he’d go easy on him, but this was regarding his fingers lol.

Trembling all over, Peter eventually gets to work. Disgust is now writ large in his face, especially when he slowly licks over the tip of Tony’s cock and down his length. Before he can move back to the tip, the man fists his fingers into his hair to hold him in place for a few little longer. “My balls feel lonely, slut.”

The defeated sound coming out of Peter’s throat has him grinning. Tony had been a little surprised by the boy’s lack of resistance (even considering the last punishment), and since he immensely doubts that he has broken him already, there’s only one explanation: Peter has seen through Tony’s motives. He probably thinks he can outsmart him by pretending, but Tony will always be a step ahead of him. Also, no matter how badly the kid believes that he can resist the change in his psyche, it will happen. It’s _inevitable. He_ is inevitable. 

Moaning in delight, Tony throws his head back, hips buckling upwards when Peter starts to caress his balls with his lips and tongue. Next, he even takes one of it in his mouth, but he’s a little too rough with his teeth, earning him a warning slap on the cheek. “Careful.”

“S-Sorry, sir,” Peter squeaks, blushing. “Sh-Should-…I-I mean, can I try again, please?”

 _He really has seen through it. This is going to be so much fun._ “You really are eager to please me, aren’t you? Who would I be to decline my dutiful cock-hungry slut even more of me? How about we move over to the sofa, so you can lick a little lower?”

Tony almost busts out laughing by the look of confusion and dread on Peter’s face. “S-Sir?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of ‘rimming’ before. I’ll give you a hint. It has something to do with your tongue and my ass.”

 _Okay, now he’s panicking._ “S-Sir, I-I…” _Any second now…_ “P-Please don’t make me do this, sir, please, I-I-I can’t!” _Gotcha._

Chuckling, Tony pulls him up by his hair and forces him down on his lap. Bringing his mouth close to Peter’s ear, he growls, “I know what you think you’re doing, sunshine, but you shouldn’t try to outsmart me. It’s either your tongue on my ass or my dick in yours. Decide.”

The sobs coming out of Peter’s throat causes his body to vibrate, sending a wave of pleasure through Tony. He already knows what the kid’s going to choose. “Y-Your dick i-in m-mine.”

 _Bingo._ The boy thinks getting fucked is less shameful than actively licking someone else’s ass, but he most certainly hasn’t foreseen Tony’s next command. “Then put it in and start riding me. Fuck yourself on my dick, show me what a needy little slut you really are.”

“B-But s-sir-“ He’s cut off by Tony grabbing his throat, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect me to let go until my tip is in your hole, so you better get a move on.” The boy is not prepared, and the little bit of spit his tongue left on Tony’s cock has long dried. This is going to be a _rough ride_ indeed, for the both of them, but the man doesn’t give a shit.

At first, Peter feebly tries to remove Tony’s hand from his throat, but with his numb fingers he can’t even scratch him, let alone grab and pull. Therefore, he’s already in desperate need of air when he eventually puts his toes on the floor and tries to place Tony’s dick under his hole by moving it with the palms of his hands.

Then, he tries to sit down, face distorting in agony when his rim refuses to give in. In panic, he tabs at Tony’s arms, and since he doesn’t want the boy to faint or die, he loosens the grip on his throat a little bit. “You get ten more seconds or I’ll squeeze even harder.”

Peter’s panicked sobs are close to keening at the time he finally forces his body to take the pain, probably tearing himself open again. It’s not more than the tip, but Tony lets go as promised. “Good boy. Now take my full length. You can go slowly.”

Only because it will hurt Tony less if he does. However, he knows it won’t take too long until Peter is left with no other choice than to get off (which would result in a severe punishment) or go down, because his injured legs are already shaking badly. He won’t be able to stand in this position for a lot longer.

With a choked sob, Peter lowers himself a little more, eyes rolling back inside his head at the stinging pain. “Please, s-sir, I can’t do t-this, i-it hurts so m-much. P-Please, M-Mister…Mr. S-Stark?”

 _Ah. That’s new._ “Hmm,” Tony hums, placing both hands on Peter’s shoulder with a kind, teasing smile. “I _love_ that, you precious little thing. But…” The short-lived relief in the kid’s eyes turns to fear when Tony bares his teeth. “If anything, it’s _Master_ Stark for you!”

With that, Tony puts pressure on his hands, causing Peter to scream in agony when his body is forced down on the man’s dry cock. He spasms, cries and pleads, but Tony shows no mercy. “Feet off the ground,” he hisses when he realizes that the kid is still trying to support his weight by standing on his toes.

Wailing, Peter shakes his head. “C-C-Can’t.”

“You can, and will, if you don’t want me to break your legs.”

Once again, the boy tries to raise his hips a little bit, but Tony doesn’t let him. It takes twenty more seconds until his trembling legs give in. “Now raise your legs and cross them behind the back of the chair.” The motion causes the man to slip all the way in, successfully impaling Peter’s tight ass on his cock.

The teenager seems close to faint from the pain, but then he does something Tony hasn’t suspected. In a desperate effort to ease the agony, he throws his arms around Tony’s neck, clinging to him like a young child carried by its mother. It feels… oddly comforting. The boy’s tear-stained cheek is now only an inch from Tony’s mouth, so he takes the chance and licks some of the salty drops away. Peter’s probably in too much pain to even notice, so Tony grabs his chin and kisses him. Due to the kid’s lack of response, he pulls back soon. “Let’s try that again. Make me believe that fucking yourself on my cock is the greatest thing in the world. Kiss me like you’d kiss _Michelle._ ”

Peter freezes, eyes going blank. After a few seconds, his bottom lip starts quivering and more tears are running down his cheeks. He looks even more tormented now than when his ass got torn; _the power of emotional pain._ “I’m waiting.”

The boy hiccups, lowers his gaze, takes a deep breath and then, finally, presses his lips against Tony’s. Thanks to the tears, it’s wet before they even open their mouths. It is a different kiss indeed, with Peter taking the lead, and although Tony can still feel his disgust and doubts that this is how he’d really kiss his girlfriend, he’s satisfied.

“Start to move,” the man eventually whispers. “You can put your feet back on the ground.”

Peter tenses, bottom clenching around Tony’s dick, but he tries to obey. “W-What now?”

“ _Move._ Up and down. Bounce. Have you never seen porn? Fuck, you really are green, aren’t you?”

The kid chooses not to answer and follows Tony’s instructions instead, chest moving back and forth rapidly with his heavy breathing, eyes closed in agony. After about an inch of moving up, he comes to a stop. “I-It hu-hurts.”

Tony simply stares at Peter, eyes narrowing to slits. He takes the hint and toils to get further up. It takes agonizingly long. By the time the tip is the only part of Tony still inside his bottom, the boy’s legs are shaking very badly again. Tony grabs Peter’s hips hard enough to bruise, and when he pushes him down, he collapses. Peter screams, whereas the man grunts in discomfort. It’s too fucking dry, but since he’s made his point anyway…

“Stay still,” he commands, and, after grabbing the boy tightly, stands up. The kid yelps, promptly wrapping his legs around the man’s waist to make it less painful. “Let’s take that shower now.”

Although Tony isn’t the strongest male Avenger, it’s no problem carrying the light teenager, first over to the partly unpacked suitcase where he grabs an open bottle of lube, and then into the shower. He leans Peter against the tiles, still buried inside of him, and turns on the water. They both wince when cold drops are raining down on them, but after ten seconds, the temperature turns pleasantly warm.

Tony starts a slow rhythm of fucking the kid by withdrawing for about an inch before slipping back in. He continues to do so for about a minute until he has to accept that it’s too uncomfortable, so he eventually pulls out completely and sets Peter down. “Turn around, palms against the tiles, legs spread.”

With the shower hose, he makes sure to clean every inch of Peter he can reach, ignoring his shameful whimpers when he spreads his ass checks apart to cleanse his bloody rectum. After using body wash and shampoo on both of their bodies, (Tony smirks when Peter’s penis gets half-hard during the process) he reduces the water stream a bit and uncaps the bottle of lube.

He puts a decent amount on his dick and smears a bit more into the boy’s hole, who instinctively flinches as soon as the finger brushes over his abused rim. A few seconds later, Tony forces his dick back into the tight, but now prepared, ass, smiling blissfully. _Much better._ “Want to ask me something before I continue?”

It’s a shame he can’t see Peter’s face to watch his inner struggle. Will he jump over his shadow and ask for an orgasm, or will he take the risk of being forced to cum regardless and be punished for it? “N-No, thank you, sir.”

The boy probably thinks that Tony won’t give him another cut in the state he’s in. Well, it’s too bad that he’s in fact right, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t edge him a little bit… “Let’s see if you’ll regret this” Tony whispers in Peter’s ear and grins when the teen shutters, ass clenching around the intruding dick. Slowly, Tony starts to move again and wraps his hand around Peter’s cock, stroking it firmly.

The choked, slightly panicked whimpers elicited from the boy’s lips are music to his ears. “What’s the matter, sunshine? Your balls must be filled to the brim with semen, especially after I _accidentally_ dropped a few pills of Viagra into your water bottles the last few days. I watched you squirm sometimes… it was lovely. So desperate, so _needy.._.” He knows hearing that will freak the kid out, and indeed – another violent shiver causes Peter’s body to vibrate and Tony to groan in pleasure.

The man’s thrusts are getting faster and more brutal when he feels his orgasm building up. The boy’s dick has gotten harder with each stroke, and even though water is still raining down on them, Tony’s quite sure that he’s been leaking pre-cum. He would need to stop soon, but first- “Don’t you like how my hand feels around your dick? How it’s setting every inch of your body on fire, until you can’t focus on anything else than the pleasure building up inside of you, waiting, _wishing,_ for the satisfying climax?”

The teenager whimpers, fighting to hold back the moan threatening to escape his lips. “Your dick is about to burst. You are _desperate_ for release, admit it.”

When Tony manages to hit his prostate, Peter seems to forget about the punishment awaiting him. He cries out, hips pushing back before thrusting forward into the man’s palm, probably only seconds away from cuming -

Tony loosens the grip on his penis and even pulls out just to make sure he wouldn’t make Peter cum on accident. When the boy cries out, Tony grabs his abused wrists and presses them firmly against the wall to keep him from trying to touch himself with his dysfunctional fingers. “What is it? You said you didn’t want to cum. I’m just trying to avoid having to punish you.”

The teenager shoots the man a disgusted glare before spitting out a venomous “Thank you, sir.” That’s it. The Peter Parker he had expected earlier, the one not hiding his anger, disgust or fear even while trying to do what’s demanded of him.

After thirty more seconds, Tony think it’s safe enough to continue fucking. Since he’s been aching for release himself, the wait has gotten quite tormenting. Peter’s dick is still hard and throbbing when Tony pounds into him, but he doesn’t bother himself with trying to hit the boy’s prostate again. Instead, he’s chasing his own orgasm, and as soon as he’s spilled his seed inside Peter’s ass, the teen’s trembling legs once again give in and he collapses on the floor of the shower base, panting and whimpering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the stealing Thanos' quote and giving it to _Tony_ ~~(The Endgame pain is real)~~ of all people, but it fit lmao.  
> I was acually unsure if I should post the chapter because I'm on skiing trip and won't really have time to deal with complaints about it featuring rape again :/ So, in case anyone is bothered by this despite my warnings, please read the comments of chapter 4 (called 'Three'). There should be all you need to know about me, this fic and my "motivations" in there. Thank you.


	11. Ten (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends his first night on Bonefish Cay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short non-explicit **recap** if you skipped the last chapter: Because Peter tried a little too hard at pleasing Tony, he saw through Peter's intention of acting as if he was broken or under the influence of "Stockholm Syndrome" already. Tony forced Peter to make a few choices that ended with him getting violated in the shower. This is where the new chapter starts.

Once again, Peter doesn’t know what’s worse. The water running down the drain is of a weird, pinkish color, serving as visible evidence of how badly Tony has hurt him once more. And yet, Peter’s dick is still painfully hard, without a single thing he could to about it. He despises all of this so much. It seems that no matter what he does, Tony is always a step ahead of him and would always find a way to punish him somehow.

Fresh tears are running down his cheeks when the man forces him back on his feet and pulls him out of the shower. Peter’s only vaguely aware that he's rubbed dry with a towel, though when Tony tells him to go and eat his dinner, he eventually snaps out of it. “I-I can really eat it?”

“Sure. That was part of the deal. I always keep my word, remember?”

 _‘Only in a twisted, close-to-cheating sort of way,’_ Peter thinks with regret, but he neither has the courage, nor the strength to argue and possibly anger the man again. When he stumbles into the living room, the smell of the meal is powerful enough to erase everything else from his mind, even his still aching hard-on. Exhausted, he plops down into the same chair Tony had tormented him in earlier, and eyes his plate, registering a problem. “Uhm… sir?”

“Yes?” Tony's seated on the sofa wearing nothing but boxers, watching the kid intently.

“I don’t think I can hold the fork.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to find a way to eat without it since I’m not going to feed you again.” He smirks when Peter blushes. “As you said yourself, you received a proper punishment for being a disobeying little shit. Therefore, you can only blame yourself for the consequences.”

The teen can feel a spark of anger stirring deep inside of him once more. _All right._ It will be embarrassing, but it can’t be any worse than what Tony has already seen of, or done to him. _Fuck it._

With that, Peter shoves the eggs and bacon into the palm of his hands before stuffing them into his mouth unhesitatingly. Although the meal is cold already, it tastes more delicious than Peter could have imagined: the eggs perfecly fluffy and mixed with cheese, the bacon still crispy. The boy doesn’t glance at Tony once, not even when he can clearly hear him chuckling amusedly. He won’t give him the satisfaction.

When he’s done, Tony takes the plate away from him and puts it in the sink. “I’m starting to regret calling you slut instead of pet. Maybe I should-“

His presumably alarming suggestion is interrupted by a knock on the door. A moment later, Strange enters the room, holding a drug dispenser and some bandages. “Here’s the stuff I promised. I can help you put on-… Wait, did you let him take a shower? Seriously? Ever heard of keeping water and _body washes_ away from stitches for at least 48 hours?”

Strange rolls his eyes at Tony, who has the decency to smile sheepishly for once. It doesn’t suit him _at all_. “You know how dirty he’s been. I had to get him cleaned.”

“I’ll go and get a special balm." Snorting irritatedly, Strange leaves the house again. Tony grins and winks at Peter, who’s seething inwardly. One day he’ll be the one laughing and _winking_ , namely at the lifeless body of one Tony fucking Stark Peter had killed with his own, bare hands. The thing that worries him though, is that given the countless scars decorating the man’s torso, Peter wouldn’t be the first person to try and kill him. Are those bullet wounds right under his left collarbone?

Strange coming back an instant later draws Peter’s attention away from Tony. The creamy white balm the former doctor smears on the stitched-up wounds is blissfully cooling, easing the itching and burning immediately. Five minutes later, the wounds are protected by fresh bandages and Strange leaves, but not before wishing Tony a ‘good first night in paradise’. That reminds him… where are they even?

“The time has come for you to decide – what’s it gonna be, bed or chest?” Tony asks mockingly, hand already fumbling for Peter’s limp penis again. Suppressing a whimper, the boy struggles with the decision – he can’t take another edging or even an unwanted orgasm today, but his whole body is aching and desperate to lie down comfortably… “I…Can I please sleep in the bed, s-sir?”

“Of course you can. Those are the rules, slut.”

With a nasty grin, Tony gets Peter half hard before sending him off to the bathroom to take a piss. “You have two minutes. No touching yourself!”

 _As if he could_.

Afterwards, Peter gathers all his courage to ask Tony a small, but seemingly unattainable favor. “Can I please have a toothbrush, sir?” The taste inside his mouth has grown so disgusting that it baffles him Tony had even wanted to kiss him earlier. While the man is pondering over the request, Peter’s heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. It’s ridiculous considering he’s only asking for a fucking toothbrush, but he can’t help it.

“Hm. To be honest, I don’t think you’ve earned yourself a reward like this just yet. If you are good the next couple of days, I might let you have one. Now wait until I’m done.”

Unfazed, Tony straight out uses the toilet right in front of Peter before brushing his own teeth. _At least he keeps himself clean._ It makes having to touch and kiss him a very tiny bit less nauseating, although Peter would still rather do anything else than either of those things.

When he lies down on the comfortable mattress five minutes later, his worries are forgotten for a few blissful seconds. It feels so fucking good. Why has he never appreciated being able and allowed to sleep in a bed before? He’s always taken things like these for granted, although so many poor, homeless people in the world are forced to sleep on hard grounds or in the dirt without even a roof over their heads. Maybe he deserves what’s been done to him. Maybe-

“Sit up.”

Peter forces his eyes open and can hardly hold back the tears when the harsh reality of where he is catches up with him. Inwardly, he apologizes to every homeless person in the world for his arrogance, but right now, he’d rather be them than himself.

The desperate wish intensifies when Tony secures a handcuff to his left ankle before connecting it to the bed post. “Just to make sure,” the man grins, oblivious to Peter’s hateful glare when he turns off the lights.

For the first few minutes Peter hardly dares to breathe, let alone move. He’s waiting for Tony to touch and torment him again, but nothing happens. What is he waiting for? Does he want to lull him into a false sense of security before striking out of the blue?

Apparently…not. Because after a few more minutes of lying there, shuddering and anxious, Tony’s breathing becomes deep and steady, indicating that he’s fallen asleep.

Tears of relief begin forming in the corners of Peter’s eyes when he rolls around slowly, turning his body and face away from Tony. Although the cuffs are clinking during the movement, the man doesn’t stir. He even stays asleep when Peter carefully tugs at the thin, single blanket in an effort to cover some parts of his naked, shivering skin with it. He can feel the pleasant, tempting warmth radiating from Tony’s body underneath the blanket, but he’d rather stay cold for the rest of his life than move any closer to him.

What May, MJ and Ned might be doing right now? Are they lying in bed too, thinking about him? Or have they already moved on after seeing what a fucking despicable slut he had been? Tears are slowly running from his eyes, drenching the pillow his head is resting on. He misses them so much. May’s hugs, Michelle’s kisses, Ned’s jokes…

While Peter wished to feel nothing but relief about the fact that they are all safe and far away from him and his captors _,_ he shamefully has to admit to himself that he almost feels worse right now than when his friends had been hostages too. During the heist, although it had felt impossibly far, his friends had only been one floor down, but now he’s held captive at _some place_ , surrounded by a bunch of criminals who either want to hurt him or don’t give a shit about his well-being. Without any hope that it would be ending anytime soon. _Or ever_. 

Sleep hardly provides an escape from these tormenting thoughts when Peter finds himself haunted by cruel nightmares about having to choose between May and MJ as Tony’s next victim and, after failing to make a decision, being forced to watch them both getting raped by him and some of the other Avengers.

The women’s screams are still ringing in his ears when Peter wakes with a start, and it takes a while until he can see anything else before his inner eyes than the reproachful, hurt looks on their faces. From afar, he hears a voice speaking to him. “Get up. You have work to do.”

Had he actually spent a whole night without getting abused? Had the man simply been too tired to touch him or is it a part of his plan to manipulate him? It would make sense... Tony might think that Peter’s more likely to choose the bed again if he treats him well during the first night. The shameful truth is, that he’s not wrong. The thought of having to sleep in a small, dark box somehow scares Peter more right now than potentially getting abused again.

“I said. _Get. Up.”_

The boy forces his puffy, oddly sticky eyes open, only to find his vision a little blurry. He must have been crying in his sleep, just like he did in the dream... The cuffs around his ankle are gone, so Peter sits up and glances tiredly at Tony standing in the open closet doors. “If you promise to be good today, I’ll give you something to wear.”

Although it’s tempting to ask what Peter would have to do for it, he decides it’s better not to know. “I’ll tr-…I-I mean, I’ll be good. Th-Thank you, sir.”

With a smirk, Tony steps out of the boxers he put on yesterday. “Don’t make me regret this.” He throws the piece of clothing into Peter’s lap, and the boy stares at them, blankly and speechless. _He can’t be serious._

“What’s the matter? You got a problem? I thought you wanted something to wear.” Tony's watching Peter’s inward battle about whether to wear his rapist’s used boxers or stay naked with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Gulping and with tears in his eyes, the boy eventually forces himself to speak. “Th-Thank you, sir.”

Tony snorts amusedly. “Don’t expect me to put them on for you. You can use the bathroom, but I want you in the kitchen in five minutes, not a second later.”

As fast as he can, Peter struggles to his feet and stumbles towards the toilet, only to freeze in horror when he can feel a decent amount of cum and lube leaking from his ass, threatening to stain the floorboards and incur Tony’s anger. Every step further makes him feel more disgusting as it causes the liquid to slowly run down his thighs and calves, but there’s really nothing he could do apart from trying to move faster. 

Peter breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it to the bathroom before – presumably - staining anything. His fingers are in a slightly better shape than yesterday, but the thought of the things Tony might make him do when they’re fully healed almost makes him wish they would stay useless. At least it’s easier to use the toilet now, and he even manages to clean most of the cum off his skin and put the boxers on.

Back at the table, Tony lets him eat two pieces of dry, untoasted bread after forcing the pill supposed to help with the infection down his throat. Peter barely listens to the man rambling about letting him have some of his jelly, peanut butter or Nutella if he proves to be a _good boy,_ and focuses his mind on chewing the stale pastry instead.

A few minutes later, the teen anxiously watches Tony’s rummaging through the storeroom, gathering some sponges, rags, a bucket and cleansers. The house looks tidy enough, so what-

“We have to return the yacht tomorrow, so you’re going to clean it. The engine room, to be exact.”

Peter’s eyes widen in shock. “Please, s-sir,” he whimpers faintly, “Don’t make me do this.”

“It’s your fucking waste, kid. You should have thought about that before behaving like a toddler.”

“I-I…Please, I d-didn’t mean to do that. It wasn’t my fault, I-“

“Not your fault? Whose is it then? _Mine?_ ” Tony looks at him provocatively, and Peter knows, he has to be careful now.

“No, sir. I know it’s m-my fault that I was punished, but I couldn’t have prevented t-the other stuff. T-That’s what I meant. It’s n-nobody’s fault.”

“Actions and consequences, Mr. Parker. A lesson you still don’t seem to have learned. We shall work on that when you’re done.”

Ignoring the boy’s terrified sobs, Tony urges him to get up and leave the house. Although it still has to be morning, it’s already pleasantly warm, despite Peter wearing nothing but Tony’s tight boxers. The morning sun is shining brightly, prickling on his sensitive skin, giving the boy an idea of where they might be. If he had to bet, he'd put all his money on the Caribbean, the Bahamas or somewhere else close by. Anyhing else would either be too warm for March or too far away.

The path to the beach has them moving past other small houses and to the jetty leading to the impressive yacht. From the jetty, Peter dares to glance back at the beach, surprised to find himself able to overlook the shore of what looks like the whole island. Panic threatens to overwhelm him when the harsh reality sinks in.

_There’s no one else on this island._

It looks way too small for that… It’s just him and the other Avengers. He’s trapped on a few acres of sand, grass and palms, surrounded by nothing but water. There’s nowhere to go and nobody he could ask for help. How ironic that Strange had called the island _paradise_ yesterday, when, in Peter's eyes, it’s living hell. A fucking prison and torture chamber.

And inevitably: his final resting place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling this is the most boring and most uneventful chapter up to date, but I’ve been so awful to Peter that I thought he deserved a short break from physical harm :') I hope it was still enjoyable but if not: this story is long from being over, I definitely haven't run out of ideas yet, so don't worry ;)


	12. Eleven (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony feels the need to show Peter that he won't put up with the boy talking back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Spanking. Semi-public humiliation  
> I uhm... actually had different plans for this chapter, but for some reason this happened (I REALLY had to blow off steam lol) and yeah. I don’t know?! And it's slightly longer than usual ;)

Since the boy’s still unsteady on his legs, Tony feels obliged to grab him around the waist and help him get onto the yacht to make sure he won’t fall into the gap between the jetty and the boat. In front of the engine room, Tony uses duct tape in order to stick one of the sponges to Peter’s right hand. “This should help you do your job.” He points at the bucket he’s brought with them. “This is salt water with cleanser. If it gets too dirty, call for me. I’ll exchange it for you.”

Tony makes a pause, gazing at the boy expectantly. A little too late, he catches on, hastily letting out a sloppy “Thank you, sir.” Well, one more thing they’d have to work on…

“There’s an empty bucket beneath the upper one that you can use it in case you need to throw up and don’t want to clean even more.”

With that, Tony carries both buckets and the rags down into the engine room before leaving Peter to his duty. It takes three hours and seven bucket refills until Tony’s somewhat pleased with the result. He could handle a penalty for extraordinary staining that would require a special, more expensive cleaning, but not wary questions from the hirer.

When they finally leave the interior spaces of the yacht, Peter’s a mess. Distraught, exhausted and undeniably greenish-white in the face, he stumbles out into the sunlight, frantically breathing in the fresh air. The sight is so pathetic that Tony can’t resist teasing him some more. “Can you imagine how hard it was for me to get my dick up down there?”

He doesn’t know if Peter ignores with intent him or if he’s simply too wrecked to comprehend what’s being said to him, so Tony gives him a few minutes before trying to speak to him again. “Given the content of the second bucket, you must be close to starving. Want something to eat?”

Face distorted in disgust, Peter shakes his head, showing just how awful he must be feeling to deny food in his current state. Thing is, as much fun as seeing him drooling while watching him eat might be, Tony knows he has to start giving him more.

“Well, too bad because you’re going to eat something, if you want to or not. I want your body to be appealing to me, but with your bones sticking out like this, it’s rather screaming _death_ at me right now. And don’t even get me started on your sickening complexion.”

The glare sent his way is so intense that Tony seriously hopes it’s the sun burning on his skin and not a secret superpower the boy has been hiding from him until just now. How can he still be so defiant after everything? “You better stop looking at me like that or I’m going to make you eat one of your eyeballs, got it?”

The threat doesn’t have the desired, expected impact. For maybe a second the teen looks thoroughly worried, but then- “I thought you wanted me to be appealing to you? How is that going to work if I’m missing an eyeball? You’re contradicting yourself.”

Okay. He would have to kill him. _Or worse._ To Peter’s biggest fortune he shrinks back when Tony marches forward, showing that he still is very much afraid despite acting bold. The man manages to catch his arm and sends two harsh blows against his cheek and temple. Gripping a fistful of his hair, Tony forces the whimpering boy to look at him. “Explain to me how you can be this fucking stupid and act like a fucking little brat when I just offered you fucking food. Are you so desperate to be seriously injured?”

Well, at least the kid still knows how to cry. “N-No, I’m s-s-sorry. I just…I just…”

“If I wanted a snotty child, I would simply ask you to call me _daddy_. Although I admit that some my threats might sound excessive, I am willing to kill you very slowly and gruesomely, _Peter,_ especially if you’re starting to get on my nerves. I thought you knew me better by now than to underestimate the things I could do to you, but it seems like you can’t wait to get another taste of it.”

“N-No, please, I-I-I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” Snorting, the man furiously drags Peter off the yacht and over the jetty without loosening the grip on his arm and hair once, not even when the crying boy trips, unable to get up again. There’s silent laughter and a delicious smell of an ongoing barbeque coming from the shady fireplace a few yards away from the houses, eliciting a smirk from Tony’s lips.

“Look who it is,” Clint yells when they get closer, drawing the other’s attention at them. Tony lets his eyes roam; is it really just him, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Stephen, Quill and Loki _?_ It would almost be perfect. “Where are the others?”

“No idea, but I’m sure they won’t disturb us in case you’re having certain plans,” Clint says greedily, eyes fixed on Peter.

“All right, Clint, let me get this straight: You won’t get to have him.”

“Why not? You let Steve _and Bucky_ in on the fun, why can’t I have some too?”

“Because it’s a lot more entertaining watching you drool all over yourself. Also, I let you jerk off to him gagging on my dick two days ago, didn’t I? So stop getting on my nerves or you’ll have to leave.”

For a second, it looks like Clint wants to argue, but he doesn’t seem to want to risk missing out on whatever fun Tony might have planned. “Okay, sorry, man. You’re the boss.”

Tony doesn’t miss Loki rolling his eyes, but he chooses to ignore him. There are more important things to take care of right now.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks when Tony pulls Peter forward.

“I’m afraid baby boy is in need of some more punishment. Take off your-… I mean,” – Tony chuckles nastily - “ _my_ boxers, kid.”

At these words, Peter is hit by a new wave of very pathetic sobs. “P-Please, I-“

He cries out when Tony strikes him across the face once more. “If you’re pleading with me one more time, the punishment will be three times worse. Take. off. your. boxers.”

Trembling all over, the boy eventually complies. As soon as he’s finished slipping the boxers down clumsily, Loki gets up and turns to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” Tony snarls.

“I have no interest in watching you rape a teenager, believe it or not.”

The grateful look Peter flashes Loki causes Tony to seethe inwardly. “You’re lucky then, because I’m not going to do that. But you better still leave before you piss your fucking pants. I don’t need anyone as highly sensitive as you around.”

The others burst into laughter. For a second, Loki hesitates, but then he forces his mouth into a fake smile. “Don’t burn yourself, Tony.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Instead of answering, Loki struts away, smiling even brighter. Tony faces his friends, outraged. “He’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Forget him,” Steve says with a reassuring smile, “now, what kind of punishment are we going to witness?”

Right. The kid. With a snort, Tony plops down into the wooden chair Loki had been sitting in. He pulls Peter with him and manhandles him down onto his knees before bending him over. “Peter decided to act like a child, so I decided to treat him like one. And I figured the proper punishment for a naughty brat is…” Only when Tony forces Peter’s head down and ass up, he seems to catch on.

“P-Please, sir, I-“

“Uh-oh,” Bucky shuts the boy down, drowning out the other men’s chuckles. “Look who’s thirsty for a tripled punishment.”

“No, I-I-I didn’t mean, I-“

“Hush,” Tony commands and points at the boxers lying in the sand. “Bring them to me, Quill.” A pathetic sob escapes Peter’s throat when Tony orders him to open his mouth in an obvious attempt to gag him with it. “It’s either these or Clint’s cock. Your decision.”

The men chuckle at the sight of Clint’s outraged, yet disappointed face when Peter hastily opens his mouth and lets Tony stuff the boxers into his mouth. “Good. Can’t have your mommies coming to your rescue again, can we? Now, I actually wanted to give you ten blows, but since you decided to disobey me once more, it’s going to be thirty.”

 _Technically,_ Tony had wanted to give him twenty, but even he knows that the boy would never be able to take sixty. Not that it matters, really. As long as Peter believes that Tony tripled the number, it will have the desired effect.

The first three times Tony’s flat hand collides with Peter’s firm buttocks the boy only gives more or less faint whimpers, but after the fourth time, he jerks, yelp muffled by the fabric in his mouth. “Stay still,” Tony says warningly, giving him two more blows right after. “That was five and six. Twenty-four to go.”

Although Peter tries his best to stay still for the next blows, his muffled screams get louder and more desperate. Soon enough, tears are spilling from his eyes, wetting the sand beneath his head, causing Tony to halt for a few seconds. The palm of his hand is prickling uncomfortably, so he shoots his friends a generous look. “We have twenty more to go. Who wants a turn?”

Whereas Quill declines with a laugh, Stephen ponders over it for a few seconds before shaking his head. “My fingers are still stinging from all the stitching yesterday.”

Bucky, Sam, Clint and Steve, however, eagerly agree and move closer, leading to Peter struggling in Tony’s lap, pupils dilated in fear. The motion has the boy’s dick brush against Tony’s left thigh, giving him a vicious idea. Grinning, he brings his legs together, successfully trapping the limp penis between his thighs. Now every further movement will cause a friction that would inevitably lead to more embarrassment for the kid. “Steve, you go first.”

Smirking, Steve braces himself before landing his first, rather harsh blow that has Peter jolting up with a pained, muffled scream. “Hold him down, but be careful with his wrists,” Tony hisses, grabbing a fistful of Peter’s hair himself. Bucky and Clint immediately obey and grab Peter’s legs and arms, holding him still for the rest of Steve’s smacks.

Each blow and the kid’s desperate jerks cause his groin to grind against Tony’s lap, and to the man’s amusement, the boy’s cock has hardened considerably when Steve is done. It gets even worse when Sam’s finished hitting him four times.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this. The little shit’s just smeared pre-cum onto my leg,” Tony laughs, winking at the others. “You are enjoying this, don’t you, slut?”

Ignoring Peter’s hiccupped sobs and the vehement shaking of his head, Sam and Clint change positions. The man delivers four fast, brutal blows that have Peter’s eyes rolling back into his head. “Come on, pull yourself together,” Tony urges, giving him a light slap on the cheek. “You’re almost done, it’s just four more.”

“Are you _comforting_ him?” Clint asks incredulously.

“I… what? I’m _not_ , I’m…” To Tony’s horror, he can feel his cheeks blushing. “I just… I want him to be conscious for it, that’s all.”

He doesn’t miss Clint and Quill exchanging an amused grin. “Why are you blushing then?”

If Peter hadn’t been draped over his lap, Tony would have stood up and torn Clint’s fucking throat open. Instead, he tries to stay as calm and indifferent as possible. “Blushing occurs whenever an emotional trigger causes someone’s glands to release hormone adrenaline, leading to an increased capillary blood flow in the skin, dumbass. It’s a simple physical reaction to a retarded question that stirred my anger. Now be careful what you’re implying or we’re going to have a real, fucking problem.”

It’s Clint’s turn to blush. “I uhm. I was just joking, man, no need to throw threats around.”

“How about we finish and then you can, uhm, talk this out?” Bucky suggests, apparently nervous about Tony changing his mind about letting him get his turn.

“There’s no need to talk, Barnes. Go ahead, but make sure to leave a _lasting impression._ I want to see an imprint of your fingers on his ass when you’re done.”

Bucky’s chuckle is drowned out by Peter screaming into his gag. In panic, he starts thrashing more violently again, leading to Clint and Steve tightening their grips on him. “Wished you could feel how his dick’s throbbing in excitement,” Tony says in an effort to erase any possible last doubt about him caring for the boy’s well-being howsoever.

And yet, he can’t help but wince when Bucky’s hand comes down on Peter’s ass hard enough to bruise the leg it’s resting on. _Ouch._ However, no sound escapes his lips as he grits his teeth and keeps a straight poker face until Bucky’s done. At this point, Peter has stopped moving altogether; if it weren’t for his ragged breathing and squeaking whimpers, Tony might have thought he’d fallen unconscious.

Steve eventually pulls him up and holds him close to his chest, giving Tony space to get up too and pull the drenched boxers out of Peter’s mouth. The boy’s dick is still hard…“Do you still want to pretend that you didn’t enjoy yourself just now? I hate to let that erection go to waste, so I’m going to ask you: Do you want me to jerk you off?”

It takes Peter a few seconds to snap out of his almost delirious state, and just like Tony thought, he weakly shakes his head, probably thinking once again that he wouldn’t get a cut after already being put through quite a bit.

Tony tsks disapprovingly, smirking at the look of fear in Peter’s eyes. “Wrong choice. This time, you’re going to pay the price for being a stubborn, dishonest little shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never written anything like it so I kinda struggled with finding the right words, hope there weren’t too many mistakes and that it was enjoyable 🙃 I'll try to explain why Peter couldn't keep his mouth shut in the next chapter.  
> On another note, the corona virus is fucking up my country at the moment and now my mom got quarantined yesterday (we don't know if she has it because for now they won't test her, but she could be infected and started to get light symptoms today and I'm fucking worried 😥). Not easy to resist panicking TBH. I hope you're all doing well and stay safe ❤


	13. Twelve (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony becomes even more creative regarding Peter's punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the concern about my mom <3 You're so sweet, I couldn't ask for nicer or more caring readers ❤ She's still quarantined with light symptoms and they still refuse to test her :(  
> \--  
>  **Warnings:** a forced, ruined orgasm during semi-public humiliation, mentions of claustrophobia

“Make sure to hold him tight, Steve.”

Peter can feel the large man’s hands wrapping around his arms and torso even tighter, lifting him up a little bit so that his naked toes are now barely touching the sand anymore. Tony spits in his hand and comes closer with an erratic, almost maniac expression, looking more intimidating than ever.

Why. Why did he have to get himself into this situation? Tony’s right – it had been _fucking stupid_ to talk back to him like that, but it had been too much for the child. The realization of being stuck on this island with no rescue in sight, the degrading cleaning, the teasing about Peter starting to look too thin (as if it was his own choice to eat about 400 calories a day), and then another one of Tony’s violent, over-the-top threats… the morning had been an emotional roller coaster, with all the hopelessness, shame, despair and fear stirring his wrath.

Now, it’s too late to feel regret. Too late to take it back. And too late to prevent Tony from punishing him even further. Peter yelps when the man’s hand wraps firmly around his erection, but the sound’s absorbed by the soaked fabric in his mouth. After days of getting drugged and edged, the teen can’t help involuntarily jerking his hips forward at the touch despite being scared shitless by the idea that Tony will actually force him to cum and punish him for it.

If it hadn’t been for the pain spreading from his burning ass cheeks and the additional humiliation evoked by the presence of some of the other Avengers, Peter might have blown his load after only a few strokes, but so it’s taking longer, giving Tony the time to free his mouth from the gag and shut him up with an embarrassing, disgusting kiss instead.

There’s a whistle coming from one of the other men, but only the aroused, plainly audible grunt Steve gives after a few seconds catches Tony’s attention. He pulls away from Peter’s mouth and flashes the taller man an amused grin without stopping his assault on the boy’s cock. “Pinch his nipples. Hard.”

Seconds later, something between a pained yelp and an involuntary moan escapes Peter’s mouth, causing his cheeks to blush in shame. Smirking satisfied, Tony spits in his hand once more and gets down on his knees to get on eye level with Peter’s throbbing dick, speeding up his movements.

A shutter runs down the boy’s spine and he can feel his orgasm building up rapidly despite being irritated by Steve’s clothed erection pressing threateningly against his buttocks and some of the others groping themselves in their Bermuda shorts. He keens when Steve brushes over his sensitive nipple to give him another, yet softer pinch, rolling the small flesh between his thumb and index finger. It’s too much and Peter’s too exhausted to fight it any longer. With a silent, defeated moan he lets his head fall back against Steve’s chest, hardly able to take even one more stroke before-

Tony _stops._ However, in contrast to the edging he’d had to endure, his now unstimulated dick is still bobbing up and down as it’s shooting cum all over Tony’s face in spurts. It’s…hardly any satisfying or particularely pleasurable, so Peter’s left with _nothing_ but an ongoing feeling of unfulfilled sexual arousal.

“Did you just give him a ruined orgasm?“ Clint Barton asks, eyes glistening in amusement.

“Yup.” Tony gets up from the ground, bringing his face close to Peter’s. “Little shits like you don’t deserve to feel pleasure or satisfaction. However, given the fact that you ejaculated all over my face, I’m counting it as an orgasm, which means you’ll get punished now. Doctor Strange, will you do us the honor of slashing Mr. Parker’s thigh?”

To Peter’s horror, the doctor nods his head eagerly. “Sure, I’ll get my things.”

In panic, he starts squirming in Steve’s tight hold in an effort to free himself, but the man doesn’t even seem to notice. Tony, however, does, because he grabs the boy’s chin and moves even closer. “Lick your filthy cum off my face, slut.”

Not daring to plead or beg with the man again, Peter sticks out his tongue and licks the semen off Tony’s chin, cheek and eyebrow without hesitation. As soon as he’s done, Strange appears in front of him, holding a scalpel. The boy looks at him pleadingly, but when the doctor meets his gaze, his eyes are full of excitement. Right. Just because he treated his wounds and scolded Tony for getting the stitches wet doesn’t mean he’s a good guy. Even more so, he’s always been very interested in Peter’s wounds and even admitted having watched the video of his rape.

On Tony’s orders, Steve puts Peter down on the ground, pressing his arms into the sand. Tony gets hold of his ankles and asks Strange to leave the cut on his left thigh this time. “That way, he will always remember how often he’s cum during the heist, and how often he’s denied my afterwards. Make the cut about half as long as the others and not as deep, though.”

“How so?” Steve inquires, raising his eyebrows.

“Because I don’t want to get it stitched.”

Peter can’t help feeling a tiny bit relieved that he wouldn’t have to endure as much pain as he thought, but it still hurts tremendously when Strange takes his time slashing his skin open, watching the blood flow with an almost affectionate expression. Peter’s screams are once again absorbed by the boxers Steve has stuffed back into his mouth. Albeit Peter seriously doubts the Black Widow or anyone else would have actually come for his rescue even if he’d been able to scream his lungs out.

After he’s done, Strange puts a big band-aid on the wound and wraps it with a bandage. “Make sure to change it after a few hours or you’ll risk another infection.”

Tony grunts an ‘okay’, lifts Peter up bridal-style and starts walking back to the house. “Don’t forget to put everything you need from the city on Loki’s list,” Steve shouts after him.

“Yeah, yeah. Bring me some of that food when it’s finished. I need your help with something.”

Back in the house, Tony throws Peter onto the couch before marching towards the bathroom. The boy winces in pain when he lands on his sore bottom and immediately rolls himself around to lie on his stomach, smearing half-dried cum left on his tip onto the fabric.

When Tony comes back from the bathroom, he allows him to put the boxers back on. “Don’t expect to get a fresh one anytime soon, though. As of now, you’re stripped from all privileges.”

What _privileges?_

Peter receives an answer when Steve comes into the house half an hour later, carrying a plate with grilled meat, sausages and potatoes. The boy’s mouth is watering at the delicious smell, but just like he expected, Tony doesn’t offer him any of it. “You’re going to go hungry for the rest of the day.”

 _Oh god, please no._ Didn’t he say that Peter was too thin already? “B-But sir-“

“SHUT your fucking mouth. You’re not to speak again unless I allow it.”

Steve gives an approving chuckle and asks what Tony needs his help for. “Let me eat first.”

Peter desperately tries to block out the tempting odor of the food and tries to concentrate his mind back on the engine room. He’d never wanted to think of it ever again, but right now it does help a little. Problem is, that he’s starting to feel slightly sick again, and the stinging pain of his bottom cheeks doesn’t make it any better.

After finishing his meal, Tony sends him into the bedroom and locks him in. Not once does Peter consider trying to jerk himself off, too afraid of the consequences in case he got caught. Every now and then, a deafening noise reminding Peter of a drilling machine causes the walls and floor to vibrate, deeply disturbing the teenager. Whatever Tony’s doing can’t be good for him, that’s for sure.

When Peter’s eventually let out again, more than an hour must have passed.

“I’ve decided to strip you of your right to choose where you’re going to sleep today.” The boy has to bite his lip in order to avoid a sound from slipping out of this mouth. _Don’t say anything. Don’t plead. Just listen._ Satisfied, Tony leads him back to the couch. “I see you’re trying to behave. That’s good, though not enough to change my mind. I’ll let you have a glass of water and your medicine, but then I’m going to lock you in the chest.”

It’s not even evening yet; the digital clock on the oven shows 3:45 pm but Peter still doesn’t dare to argue. When Tony hands him the glass of water and the pill, his mouth silently forms the words ‘Thank you, sir’, causing the man to smirk. “Not bad, kid. Seems you’re able to pay attention after all. I think that calls for a reward.”

Is he being sarcastic or…? Feeling uneasy, Peter watches Tony fumbling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve wanted to show you these for a while. Some funny comments on Instagram.”

 _Instagram?_ Peter’s brain hasn’t quite processed the information when he’s already presented with a photo showing Michelle smiling brightly into the camera. He gasps, stomach twisting painfully at the sight, and quickly focuses his attention on the person next to her. It’s a beaming boy looking remotely like him, head tilted, staring at the girl as if he can’t believe his luck. _“So incredibly lucky to have you.”_ The words sound familiar…Right. It’s the post he had made one day before the heist. Is the happy, innocent looking boy actually _himself_? And has it really been ten _days_ since this photo had been snapped? It seems like it happened in a bygone era of his life or in a wonderful dream, even. And… how does that photo have _271,866_ likes all of a sudden? He doesn't remember it going higher than 30.

“I gotta say, the caption almost made me throw up, but the comments make up for it. I made sure to screenshot them in case they got deleted.” Swiping over the screen, Tony brings up the first screenshot. And then, another. And another. After the fourth picture, the words start to dislimn due to Peter’s eyes watering, but he’s seen enough. Of people making fun of him, calling him a _whore_ , a _faggot_ or a _disgusting piece of shit_ who deserves to be _raped_ and _killed_. One person even called it _hot._

“Aren’t they quite the knee-slapper? Also, you better be grateful I’ve made you famous because I sincerely doubt you would have 586,535 followers if it weren’t for me. And your bitch- Oh wow, she posted an hour ago. Ew, it’s another cringeworthy couple pic. Guess the little attention whore wants to get her hands on your followers.”

Without warning, the man turns the screen once more. It’s a photo taken about a week after Peter and Michelle had started dating, showing them kissing tenderly in front of a big tree. Peter tries to ignore Tony making fun of the fact that MJ’s slightly taller than him and focuses his attention on the caption. _“You did everything you could to protect me. And even after they’d tortured you, you didn’t give up. You are so strong and brave, Peter. Don’t let them get to you. We’ll find you, I promise, and when we do, I’m going to be here. I love you.”_

A choked sob escapes Peter’s throat, causing Tony to read through the caption himself. Would he regret showing it to him now? “Dear lord, that’s cheesy. Thought she’d be more of a badass, to be honest. Or, in other words: I got the impression she would have been the one fucking you if you two had ever gotten the chance to make a go at it, not the other way around. After all, we all know how much you like it up the ass, you greedy little slut.”

Just like earlier in the morning, Peter can feel a boiling rage stirring inside of him once again. It’s the teasing… he can’t fucking take it. Or maybe... he can… he’s feels too empty and pained to say or do anything stupid again. Or anything at all, in fact.

A few moments later, Tony pulls him up and shoves him towards the bathroom, and then, the storeroom. There are a few small holes on the left side of the chest freezer now, answering Peter’s previous question about what Tony did with the drilling machine. The chest freezer is even smaller than Peter thought; he barely has time to wonder how he’s going to fit when he’s already ordered to climb in and lie on his back. It takes almost a minute until he’s managed to bend his knees far enough that Tony can shut the chest's lid. “If I hear one word, sob or even whimper I’m going to plug it in for a few hours.”

Peter can hear the man placing something onto the lid before leaving and shutting the door to the storage room, leaving him in complete darkness. Although it is different to being tied up in the engine room, deprived of most of his senses, the limitedness of the chest, the very comfortable position and the stuffy air are enough to bring the boy close to a panic attack. Is he imagining it or is the chest getting smaller by the second? He tries to persuade himself that it _is_ just his scared mind developing claustrophobia and that he won’t get squashed, but it hardly helps. Carefully, Peter tries to lift the lid, but it doesn’t budge even in inch. Tony must have put something really heavy on it…

Desperately, the boy tries to remember the 4-7-8 breathing technique he’d been taught after his parent's death. Breathe in through the nose for four seconds (easier thought than done, given the stiffy air), hold it in for seven seconds and forcefully exhale through the mouth for eight seconds. Peter repeats the steps four times and to his greatest relief, it does calm him down a tiny bit.

How should he spend the rest of the day and the whole night in here, though? He’s hungry and thirsty, his ass is sore, and his limps are already hurting too, aching to get stretched. When Peter eventually tries to curl up even more and turn his body to the side, he only manages to move a few inches before his kneecaps bump against the left wall. He doesn’t want to sleep in here ever again. He can’t. Tomorrow he’s going to ask for forgiveness and choose the bed in case Tony lets him, no matter the cost.

Sobbing as quietly as possible, Peter can’t help thinking about the comments he’d read on Instagram earlier. How could anyone be so cruel and insult or make fun of a teenager who's tied up and raped? How could they even think he’d been into it?

 _Because you orgasmed, genius._ Also…he did ask for it in exchange of his life, didn’t he? Therefore, they probably have every right to call him a whore. And now he even wants to voluntarily sleep in Tony's bed again.

Just when Peter feels the urge to scream and beg Tony to kill him, he remembers MJ’s post, calling. him _strong_ and _brave._ He doubts she posted it to get attention, so she still had to believe in him, right? Also…she promised that they would find him. Maybe the information he’d given his friends turned out to be useful? If the FBI had a clue on his whereabouts, it would be fatal to give up now. Peter has to try and make the best of the situation... No more talking back, no more disobedience… however, for as long as he’s granted a choice, Peter won’t voluntarily ask Tony to touch him. The man can’t punish and cut him every day. He can’t and won’t.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t believe we’re at chapter 13 already! Compared to part 1, this isn't over yet though ;) I know this is slow burn regarding a potential Stockholm or Lima Syndrom, but I'm personally not a fan of fics where those things happen after only a few chapters (and I'm a sadist I guess).  
> In case you're reading the Devil Inside Me AUs: Sorry for not updating yesterday, I didn't have time to write on those as well :( Due to Corona I'm working twice as much as normal so co-workers with children can stay home, and things have been so stressful that I had two breakdowns the last two days 😫  
>  **I hope you and your families are all healthy and safe! ❤ Stay tight!**


	14. Thirteen (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sets a new rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** (Non-public) Humiliation, Degrading, (oral) Cockwarming that turns into throat-fucking

_It’s too fucking bright._

Tony squints through half-opened eyes, trying not to get blinded by the sunlight shining into the room. He must have forgotten to pull down the blinds after- _oh. Yeah._ With a sigh, Tony looks at the sleeping figure lying next to him. He had to blow off steam, and since Peter had been out of reach… well, fuck it. With a grunt the man gets up, swaying on his way over to the bathroom. How many beers did he have? Jesus.

After taking a piss, Tony brews himself a strong cup of coffee. He can’t wait to wake the boy up and see if the night had any effect on him, but before waking him up, he should get rid of-

The sound of the bedroom door opening catches his attention. “Perfect timing. I just made coffee, want some?”

“No, thanks, I…I should probably get going.”

Tony watches as he’s marching straight towards the door with big steps. “What are you going to tell Barnes?”

Steve stops and turns around, frowning. “The truth. We’re not a _couple_ per se, we’re just…” - _(like you and I once were)_ \- “I mean, he won’t care. It’s not like he’s never slept with anyone else ever since we… fucked for the first time.”

“And yet you wanted to share your house with him, living like husband and husband.”

“So? You’re living with the kid, where’s the difference?”

“The difference? We’re not like husband and husband. He’s nothing more than a dog, who- no, scratch that. A dog is lovable. He’s less than a dog and more like a servant or a slave, whatever you want to call it. I’m his _owner_. I still don’t understand why you care so much about it.”

“Because he can be dangerous, Tony. He could kill you or rat us all out any day.”

Tony’s lips curl into a smirk. “And yet you wanted him to join us yesterday and got upset when I declined. Don’t tell me you were too drunk to remember it?”

“No, I do remember it. I’m not saying he can’t be used for fun, but you should give up on the Stockholm bullshit. Even if you succeeded, you would never have any guarantees that he won’t turn on you and run away as soon as he gets the chance.”

“Where would he run off to, though? Also, I’m going to be setting up JARVIS as soon as the boxes are here, which could be any day now. With all our phones and computers connected to the system, Peter won’t have any chance to contact anyone even if he got hold of another phone.”

“If you think so,” Steve sighs, turning towards the door once more. “Just… be careful, all right?”

Tony dismisses him with a sulky grunt. As soon as the man has left, Tony goes over to the storage room, opens the door and moves the heavy box with tools from the lid. Tears are running out of the boy’s eyes when he blinks against the light, his chest moving with each greedy breath when he’s gasping for air. “Want to come out?”

Peter nods, but can’t seem to figure out how to get his convulsed body out of the narrow space. With a sigh, Tony eventually reaches in and drags him out by putting his hands under the boy’s armpits. Knowing his numb legs probably won’t be able to support his weight, he carries the child into the bathroom straight away, yanks down his boxers and sits him down on the toilet. With his eyes still closed, Peter once again forms a silent ‘Thank you’ before sighing in relief. “You can take as long as you need. Walk or crawl out whenever you think you’re able to.”

The boy does take his time, but at least he’s walking – tumbling, rather - upright when he comes out 40 minutes later. “Sit down at the table.” Up close, Tony can see that the kid’s eyes are red and puffy; he probably cried all night. He smirks when Peter’s face distorts in pain as soon as his ass touches the chair. “Want something to eat? You’re allowed to speak.”

“Y-Yes, please, sir.” Once again, Peter’s voice is horribly dry and hoarse, so the man brings him water and his pill to start with. “Now, here’s the deal. As I said, I want you to look more like you did when we first met each other. Therefore, I am willing to give you leftovers from my food instead of water and bread, but only on one condition.”

Peter gulps, hardly daring to look Tony in the eye. “What condition, sir?”

“Well… I like the feeling of your mouth on my cock, so you’re going to sit under the table while I eat, keeping it nice and warm, sucking gently every now and then. You don’t have to blow me unless I tell you to, but you’re not allowed to take your mouth off until I’m finished.”

Peter’s face changes color faster than a traffic light. He stares at Tony in disbelief, lost for words. “You have time to decide until I’m done with the cooking. In the meantime... how’re your fingers doing? Grab that pen and write ‘lots of lube’ on the paper in front of you.”

Whimpering, Peter reaches for the pen and clumsily writes the words down. It resembles the handwriting of a toddler, but at least he's able to grab and hold the pen long enough. “Hm. I’ll give you two more days, then you’re going to be doing everything around here. Cleaning, cooking, these sorts of things.”

Peter bows his dead, whispering a defeated “Okay, sir.”

Fifteen minutes into preparing Spaghetti Bolognese, Loki enters the house to collect the grocery list. “What’s that supposed to mean?” the man asks, eying Peter’s scrawly writing with an irritated look.

Tony snorts. “ _Lots of lube_.”

Frowning, Loki turns towards at the boy, who shoots a shy glimpse in his direction before fixing a spot on the floor. “I’m not going to look for a grocery store that has lube. Order it online if you need it so desperately.”

Tony hasn’t expected anything different; in fact, he only asked Peter to write it down to mess with him. “No worries. I’m well stocked for now. But thanks for reminding me to order some stuff, it’s been long overdue. When are you leaving?”

“In about thirty minutes.”

“Wait for me. I’ll come out to tell them goodbye when I'm done eating.”

Loki nods shortly and walks out, leaving Peter and Tony alone once more. Five minutes later, Tony sits down to eat, asking the boy if he’s come to a decision yet. Pearls of sweat are building on Peter’s forehead when he’s staring at the Spaghetti with dilated pupils. “I-I…”

“I’m about to start eating, so you better decide.”

“I-I... I'll h-have the bread.”

Feeling horribly irritated Tony takes six pieces of untoasted bread out of the cupboard, knowing it would be too much, and rips the slices to pieces before dropping them. “As you wish. Crawl over and eat it from the floor, then. You’re going to _finish_ it and if you throw up, you’re going to clean it with your tongue.”

It only takes a second for the boy to start crying but he makes no effort trying to fight Tony or change his mind. He drops down on the floor, crawls towards the bread pieces and makes a move to pick them up – only to feel Tony’s foot on the back of his head, pushing him down. “Did I say you could use your hands?”

Peter’s sobbing when his face’s pressed into the floor, squashing two of the bread pieces. “N-N-No, sir.”

“That’s right. I didn’t. After all, your fingers are not fully healed yet, are they? I’m going to be watching you, _pet_.”

It’s a pathetic view. Sobbing and shaking, the boy does his best to eat the bread off the floor, and even when Tony’s already finished his Spaghetti, he’s only about halfway done. “C-Can I please have some water, sir?”

“You will get water, but not before you’re finished.”

Thrice, Peter has to stop for a second, blatantly fighting against the urge to throw up. He somehow gets through it, but it’s clear that he’s horribly sick and too full to move properly without distorting his face in distress. The water doesn’t seem to make it notably better, so Tony locks him into the bedroom with a bucket, just in case.

He then leaves the house to bid his farewell to T’Challa, Shuri, Carol and Quill. “Thanks again for your help. You got all your money?”

T’Challa gives a chuckle. “Don’t you worry, Stark. We might stop by during the summer months, if we may.”

“Of course you may. You’re always welcome, just give me a call.” Tony then turns towards the others. “Denvers, Quill, same goes for you, of course.”

“Thank you.”

Brunnhilde and Loki leave the island with them, mainly to run some errands and get the motorboat and the water airplane the Avengers will prospectively use for transportation. When everyone returns to their houses, Tony doesn’t miss the dark, jealous look Bucky throws him. _No couple, my ass._

Back home, Tony turns on his laptop and connects to the WIFI Bruce and Scott have set up; ordering some sex toys and other helpful things really has been long overdue. After all, Tony can’t fuck the kid 24/7 and most certainly doesn’t want to put in too much effort to pleasure him all the time, so the toys could prove beneficial in the process of breaking and inevitably _changing_ him. As a shipping address, Tony enters the address of one of the P.O. boxes they’ve rented for future online orders. They’re located all around the Bahamas; most of them are in Nassau, but the closest one is situated on Green Turtle Cay roughly 11 miles southeast.

The rest of the day Tony passes the time reading online magazines and some more news about the heist. The authorities still don’t seem to have any clue, but Tony takes that information with a grain of salt. After all, keeping investigative results or promising leads from the public is a well-known tactic to keep the risk of alerting potential suspects to a minimum.

At dusk, he finally lets Peter out of the bedroom and shows him the sweetpotato-coconut soup he's cooked. “Want some?”

The kid doesn’t look at him when he whispers ruefully. “Yes, sir, please.”

“You know what you have to do for it, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

_Hm_. Seems it has been a good idea forcing him to eat all that stale bread earlier. “All right. Then get under the table and put my cock in your mouth. No teeth.”

Whimpering, Peter gets down on his knees and crawls under the table. A few seconds later, Tony can feel him fiddling with the zipper of his boxers before putting his dick into his warm, sweet mouth. _Dear lord._ He actually did it.

“Suck on it a little bit,” the man orders after a few minutes, throwing his head back in delight when Peter complies. _Shit._ He’s wanted to wait for later, but... Fuck it, it will be three more hours until he’ll be going to bed. He can easily go twice.

Tony drops the spoon, not caring about splashing some of the soup onto the table. Unable to resist the urge of grabbing the boy’s hair, Tony takes a handful, giving him control of Peter’s movements. He’s still far from good. Too inexperienced, too _unwilling…_ Even when Peter tries to follow the man’s commands (“Use your tongue” or “Use your hands on my base” or “Hollow your cheeks and suck, for fuck’s sake”) it’s evident that teaching him on how to do it properly will be inevitable.

After a few minutes of listening to the slurping sounds, interrupted every so often by sobs, Tony starts to pull and yank at the handful of hair, bobbing the boy’s head on his dick, forcing him to take his whole length bit by bit. Peter’s gag reflex is as bad as ever, causing him to retch a bunch of times. One more thing they’ll have to work on.

When Tony’s hit by his orgasm, he makes sure the choking boy swallows every last drop of his load by shooting as far down his throat as possible. “Now keep me in your mouth until I’m done, but stop sucking.” Satisfied by the muffled whimper sounding vaguely like ‘Mhm’, Tony slowly finishes his now cold soup before eventually letting Peter come up again.

“Aren’t you grateful for getting an appetizer?” Tony looks at Peter intently, waiting impatiently for an answer.

The boy replies with a mere whisper, had bowed in defeat. “I am. Thank you, sir.”

_He’s learning._ With a satisfied grin, the man pours the rest of the soup into his empty bowl and puts it down in front of the boy. “Mahlzeit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don’t mind me putting more of Tony/Steve in there. The story will never focus on them, so don’t worry about it, but they have quite a history. Not sure if I need to tag it as such because a friend of mine got hate when she had like a hint of it in her story and didn't tag it lol.  
> ****  
> EDIT: ok because it already made on person upset: What I meant is that Tony and Steve will not hook up like this again. This will not be a "Stony" fic but again, they have history and part of both of their backstories (as I said in an earlier chapter already). If it's a no-go for you I'll respect it and I'm really sorry if it ruined the story for you, but you can try to ignore them hooking up if you want because it won't have any big impact on the overall story.  
> ****  
> Hope you and your families are still all safe and healthy! Stay strong, you'll get through this! ❤


	15. Fourteen (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter eventually gives Tony the answer he's been craving for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating my Devil AUs once again, I haven't managed to write a word for it. Currently working 45-50 hours instead of 20 :/  
>  **Warnings:** The usual, basically. Read the tags, please.

Peter isn’t completely sure whether Tony has wished him a good meal, but he hastily mumbles another “Thank you, sir” just in case before daring to eat the first spoon. As soon as the slightly warm substance touches his tongue, Peter closes his eyes in delight. The soup has to be the best thing he’s ever eaten – creamy, deliciously aromatic and sweet. If his hands hadn’t still been weak and trembling, he would have finished in seconds, but so he takes his time and relishes the wonderful taste every spoonful leaves on his tongue.

Afterwards, Tony hands him a glass of water, presenting the prospect of giving him a soda tomorrow if he’s good. _Good. Good, good, good. That fucking word._

To Peter's greatest astonishment, Tony doesn’t lock him away after washing the dishes. Instead, he leaves him be and flops into the armchair next to the sofa, _turning on the TV._ The channels Tony zaps through are mostly channels Peter knows from back home, reinforcing his assumption that they’re not that far away from the US. Although there is a possibility that they’re actually on a small private island somewhere in the middle of the ocean, the toilet, the shower and the sink are connected to a plumbing system and they apparently don’t have to use generators for electricity. They even have fucking air conditioning in the house. Therefore, Peter thinks it’s more likely they’re not that far away from the coast or at least next to another, bigger island. Does it really matter though? He’s stuck here one way or another.

Tony settles on an action flick starring Tom Cruise. Although Peter glances at the screen every now and then, his distressed brain barely registers what’s going on. The whole situation is so oddly _domestic_ that it deteriorates Peter’s painful homesickness even more, entrapping him once again in a never-ending loop of depression, longing and sadness when he’s tormented by memories. After Ben had died, May and Peter spent many evenings giving each other comfort by cuddling on the couch and watching movies to distract themselves from their grief. Now that Peter’s gone too, his aunt is all alone, with nobody to distract or hold and hug her anymore.

When the movie’s over, Tony lets him use the toilet but still doesn’t offer him a toothbrush. “What’s it gonna be tonight? Did you enjoy the night in the chest?”

“N-Not really, sir. If I may, I’ll choose the b-bed, please.”

“Bed it is, then.”

At first, it almost seems as if Peter’s night in the bed would be as uneventful as the first one. Tony cuffs Peter’s ankle to the wooden footboard, turns off the light and climbs into the bed next to him, but after a few minutes he skids dangerously close. “Turn over,” he commands authoritatively, sending a cold rush of anxiety down Peter’s spine.

With presentiment, the boy turns his back towards his captor. Even though he expected it, the finger brushing against his opening a few seconds later still startles him and he can’t help wincing in fear. “Remember the deal, slut. The payment for sleeping in my bed is that you’ll do whatever I want and without fighting me. There’s no turning back now. If you break the deal, I’ll tie you up and make sure to make it as painful as possible before locking you back into the chest, do you understand?”

“I won’t fight you, sir,” Peter whispers in defeat, only to bite his tongue when the finger mercilessly pushes past his rim. It’s clearly not healed yet. Admittedly, anything else would have been surprising, considering the most recent assault happened only two days ago. “Good boy,” Tony praises, stirring Peter’s inner rage again. If he hears him saying _good_ or _good boy_ one more time, he’s going to- “I think you’ve earned yourself some lube.” The finger’s taken out of him, allowing Tony to take a bottle of lube from the nightstand on his side of the bed.

… _His side of the bed?_ ...

There’s no such thing, they aren’t a fucking couple living together, it’s his rapist’s bed and Peter’s only here because he’s a fucking weakling with hardly any dignity left.

A few seconds later Peter inhales sharply when not one, but two cold, slick fingers enter him. It still hurts and he wishes it would stop, but he has to admit that it’s better now. Tony’s not waiting long before adding a third finger, stretching Peter uncomfortably wide.

The man doesn’t seem particularly interested in arousing him, which is both good and bad. After another minute, Tony removes the cuff, grabs Peter’s pillow ( _THE pillow, for Christ’s sake!)_ , rolls the boy further onto his stomach and stuffs the pillow underneath his hips. More liquid is smeared around and into his entrance, and then Tony pushes in, causing Peter to bite his forearm to refrain from screaming. Why does it always have to _hurt_ so much?

His first pained sob has Tony chuckling. “It amazes me how fucking tight you still are. I honestly can’t wait to tear you apart over and over again for the rest of your life. You’re so fucking perfect.”

The boy didn’t miss the man referring to _his - Peter’s -_ life. Although he’s already known for a week now that his days are counted, his stomach still twists nastily and more tears spill from his eyes. In moments like these, he really wished Tony would just fucking kill him now and spare him any more pain and suffering.

During the act Peter zones out as much as possible, only crying out after particularly harsh thrusts. However, even after Tony has eventually finished, his torment is far from being over. The man turns the light back on, manhandles Peter onto his back and gives him a lubed handjob, forcing yet another orgasm out of him. And just like the day before, he somehow manages to ruin the pleasure that normally comes with ejaculation. How does Tony know when to stop? He definitely goes further than during an edging but…? It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but the worst part is that it shows how well Tony seems to know him already.

As a consequence for ejaculating without permission, Tony cuffs both of Peter’s ankles to the footboard, orders him to lie on his arms and presses his back down by placing his left knee onto the boy’s chest. The cut he leaves has Peter once again screaming and writhing in pain as well as inwardly cursing himself for being so stubborn and stupid.

Nevertheless, when Tony wants to have sex again first day next morning, Peter once more doesn’t ask to get pleasured. Although he’s not forced to cum this time, Tony edges him, not once, not twice, but thrice, until every cell of his body and brain is desperate for release, turning him into a keening, though not begging, mess.

During breakfast, Tony signals his dissatisfaction about the boy’s lack of giving in. Instead of giving him his ham and eggs leftovers, Peter has to eat toast again. At lunch, Tony once more locks him into the bedroom with even more slices of bread, leaving the house for a few hours. There’s no chance for Peter to escape through the window since he’s cuffed to the bed, but even if he weren’t, there wouldn’t be anywhere to go. His situation is hopeless, and he knows, he can’t go on like this for much longer.

Therefore, he gathers his courage and politely asks for some real food hours for dinner, dropping to his knees in an instant when Tony tells him to. It’s humiliating and disgusting, kneeling there under the table with his mouth full of cock, but at least he’s not told to suck it again or do anything other than wait.

The evening and night, however, end like the day before. With a movie, another rough fuck, another forced, yet ruined orgasm, and another incision. When Tony teases him that there’s plenty of space on his thigh left thanks to making shorter cuts than those he had left on his right leg, Peter knows that he has lost. He can’t take it anymore. _He can’t._

Therefore, when he’s woken up hours later by the older man rutting against his bottom, Peter decides to forget his dignity and give Tony the answer he’s been longing for. “Anything you want from me?”

No matter how hard he tries, Peter can’t keep his voice calm. “Y-Yes.”

“Yes?” Tony sounds genuinely surprised. “What do you want?”

“C-Can you… can you pl-please touch me, sir?”

“You want me to _touch_ you?” Grinning, Tony licks over Peter’s ear, causing the boy to shutter. “What else, _slut_? Do you want to cum?”

No. He doesn’t _want_ to cum, but he can’t take another edging or another ruined orgasm or any even a normal one he would get punished for. “Y-Y-Yes, sir, please. Without…s-stopping.”

“Say it. I want to hear a proper request from you, without the tears. Take your time, there’s no hurry.”

Although Peter doesn’t understand the purpose of it, he tries his best to calm down. Knowing Tony, the boy should probably be extremely careful with his request. “Please, sir, I’m asking you to touch me and- and letting me c-cum. Once. S-So that it feels good. Please.”

Flashing him the smuggest smile of all times, Tony turns Peter onto his back and pulls him closer into the middle of the mattress before spreading his legs and sitting between them. To Peter’s embarrassment, he then bends his legs and pushes them up, giving him a perfect view of his private parts and ass. Next, he orders the boy to grab his legs by the knee pits and hold them up like this.

_Oh god, what has he gotten himself into?_

What happens next erases everything else from Peter’s mind. Tony leans down and a few seconds later, the boy can feel something wet touching his hole, something that feels very different to the slick lube he’s almost used to at this point. When the _thing_ moves, Peter realizes in horror, shame and confusion that it must be Tony’s _tongue licking_ over his swollen rim.

His cheeks turn red from embarrassment and it takes everything to not loosen the hold on his knee pits. Why is Tony doing that? Will he command Peter to imitate it later on him, just like he had threatened a few days ago? Peter never asked for this though and he most certainly doesn't want it, it’s so fucking embarrassing, _disgusting_ and-

The feeling of Tony’s tongue slowly dipping into him sends a jolt of unwanted arousal through Peter’s body, causing his legs to tremble. The shade of red on his cheeks darkens. _Fuck._ It does feel better than he wants to admit, yet so horribly weird that Peter soon has no idea what he wants anymore. When the first finger joins Tony’s tongue, it almost doesn’t hurt. Only when the second one gets added a few minutes later, Peter winces slightly at the pain, but his body gets used to the intrusion before he even knows it.

His dick is embarrassingly hard at the time Tony withdraws his tongue. The man’s gloating when he emerges, a spark of triumph glistening in the dark brown of his eyes when he reaches for teen’s penis. Before Peter knows it, Tony’s mouth is caressing his sac, licking over the wrinkled skin, carefully sucking at his balls while stroking his base. At the same time, he begins to move the fingers still buried in Peter’s bottom, curling them, digging deeper until-

When they brush against Peter’s prostate, the odd, yet familiar and extremely pleasurable feeling causes him to jerk. His whole body trembles when the fingers keep violating his sweet spot and his dick gives an unintended twitch, leaking pre-cum. And then, Tony starts moving his tongue up his length, slowly, teasingly. At the time he finally licks over the head, Peter throws away all his dignity and lets out an unbridled moan. To his displeasure, it causes Tony to look up and withdraw the fingers stimulating his prostate a tiny bit.

“Want me to stop?”

Peter knows it’s a trap, no matter what answer he chooses. If he says yes, Tony will probably ignore it and continue before fucking up his climax one way or another. If he says no, he’s finally jumped the shark and sold his soul to the devil. But… hasn’t he done that already when asked to be pleasured in the first place? Although it is not guaranteed that he will get to cum, shouldn’t he at least try to feel ‘good’ for once? Why should he _always_ have to suffer? He’s had enough. Giving in one fucking time won’t mean that Tony has _actually_ won. It won’t. He’s just won this one time.

Tony’s tongue slightly pushing into the slit of his tip seals the deal. “No, s-sir. Please don’t- don’t stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, will Tony fuck things up for him again or not? Taking bets 😉 Also, I hope you’re not upset with Peter but I mean… there had to be a point where he gave in. It doesn’t change the fact that this is still **rape** and that he still wants Tony dead with all his heart.  
> Stay strong and safe, everyone ♥️


	16. Fifteen (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes one step further to make Peter his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Loki’s name is Lafeuyson but I want him to be Thor’s biological brother in this or their “name history” wouldn’t make any sense. Hope Loki fans do not mind.

_Yes._

Although it would be tons of fun to fuck with Peter by doing the complete opposite of what he’s asking for each and every time, Tony knows he can’t do it. Not only would it work against his plan of turning him into an obedient captive affected by Stockholm Syndrome, Peter would probably also see through it rather soon, meaning it could backfire on Tony. Therefore, a nice mix of giving him what he wants and denying his requests whenever he hadn’t behaved well is what he should be going for.

And now that Tony finally has Peter where he wants him, he can’t mess this up. Apart from the overstimulating blowjob Tony has given him during the heist, he knows the kid has never had the pleasure of getting blown before. And this time, Peter’s going to be sobbing for all the right reasons.

“Put your legs on my shoulders. Arms next to your body. Don’t move.”

As soon as Peter’s followed his command, Tony goes back to work. He curls his fingers against Peter’s prostate teasingly, rubbing the walnut sized knob until the boy cries out and starts squirming. The teen’s eyes are closed, face screwed up in bliss and pleasure, a single tear escaping his right eye. The way he’s biting down on his bottom lip almost has Tony cuming untouched right then and there, making him wish he could bury himself in the tight hole in front of him...but he can’t. _Not today_. This is essential.

After one last look, Tony leans down and pulls his lips over Peter’s not necessarily big, yet decent sized cock. He’s rewarded with another moan, so he swirls his tongue around the head before lapping further down, eventually hollowing his cheeks and sucking. At the same time, he slightly withdraws his fingers before pushing them back in, making sure to hit Peter’s prostate once more, drawing an extremely hot “F-F-Fuck” from the teenager’s throat.

After a few minutes, Tony can feel that he’s getting close, so he quickly starts a fast rhythm of fingerfucking Peter’s tight bottom while bobbing his head on the boy’s dick. The high-pitched moans sounding through the bedroom become more desperate and unbridled; the kid’s really living up to the name carved into his lower stomach.

A minute later, the now keening teenager pushes back on Tony’s fingers and jerks his hips upwards as if trying to fuck into the man’s mouth. His bottom is clenching, sucking the intruding fingers in greedily, and with a totally wrecked scream he climaxes hard, filling Tony’s mouth with thick drops of cum squirting from his pulsating dick.

It would be so fucking delicious to overstimulate him at least a tiny bit, but Tony _mustn’t_. Therefore, he gently pulls his fingers out of the tight rectum and swallows the boy’s juices before taking his mouth off the softening dick with a plopping sound. “You did wonderfully, kid.”

With a smug grin, he watches Peter’s face closely. Although his rosy cheeks are tear-stained, Tony knows they aren’t tears of pain this time. Tears of shame and disgust, probably; but also, more importantly, tears of undeniable pleasure and satisfaction.

When Peter finally opens his eyes, it’s obvious how much he still despises Tony, though probably not as much as he hates himself for giving in. With a wink, the man pats the boy’s thigh and gets up, exiting the bedroom without even bothering to lock his captive in. He can almost feel the piercing, confused look sent his way, but Tony doesn’t turn around and walks straight into the bathroom instead.

Smirking, he closes the door. The kid probably didn’t expect that he’d be the only one getting pleasured this morning, which is going to fuck him up even more as if Tony had forced himself onto him afterwards.

Also - _Positive Reinforcement._ It doesn’t have to hurt _all the time,_ and once Tony’s taught him how to cum on his dick without any other form of stimulation required, Peter will begin to love getting fucked too until he will crave Tony’s touches and most importantly, the feeling of his dick filling his tight little hole. And then, eventually, he’ll learn to enjoy giving Tony whatever he demands of him because he knows it will be rewarded with much-desired pleasure instead of punishment.

It’s going to be a long way, but they fortunately have all the time in the world. Now, the only thing Tony has to take care of immediately is his painful erection pressing against the fabric of his boxers.

After jerking off he returns into the bedroom, finding Peter just where he left him; glancing anxiously in his direction. The man takes off the boxers he’s worn during the night and throws them into the kid’s lap. “Here, have a new one. Now get up, I’m hungry.”

Confusion sparks Peter’s eyes when he joins him in the kitchen a minute later. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be preparing my breakfast. I want my eggs exactly like this, so you better watch me closely.”

“I will, sir.”

They both glance at each other skeptically for a quick moment before getting to work. Although Tony gives Peter bread again, he offers to toast it and even lets him have some strawberry jelly. “When you’re done, use the bathroom if you need to. We’re going to go on a short walk.”

“A walk, sir?”

“Yes. Loki came back during the night and I need you to help me carry some things.” The puzzled look on Peter’s face is horribly irritating. “Is there a problem?”

The boy blushes. “N-No, sorry, sir. I- I just…”

“ _What_?”

“Wh-Who’s Loki?”

Hasn’t he introduced him yet? “Oh, uhm… He’s the guy collecting the grocery list the day before yesterday. Thor’s brother.“ For a second, it almost seems as if Peter wants to laugh. “You think that’s funny?”

“N-No, sir. I didn’t mean to… S-Sorry.” Judging by the emptiness of his eyes, the child could as well be too broken to truly laugh ever again. _Challenge accepted._

“No need to apologize. It _is_ funny, I give you that. First time I met them, I thought they were using made-up names. They’re not. You should try guessing their family name. I’ll give you a hint: They’re from Norway, but their name is actually Danish.”

“So… their last name is basically their father’s name, right?”

“Smart boy. I’ll give you another hint: their father has the most fucking obvious and clichéd name you could think of in this context, hence him calling his sons _Thor_ and _Loki._ ”

Once more, the corners of Peter’s mouth give a very faint and barely noticeable twitch that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is his name Odin?”

Tony lets out a barking laugh. “Bingo. Thor and Loki Odinson. Quite stupid, ain’t it? Now get a move on, we have some things to do.”

With a blush, Peter hurries into the bathroom before following him outside. It’s going to be another bright and warm day, and for the first time since their arrival, Tony feels like running to the shore and diving into the beautiful turquoise water. Too bad there’s no time for it right now.

The Odinson house is all the way to the left. It’s Brunnhilde who opens the door. “Ah, someone else I can introduce you to. This is Brunnhilde, but you better call her Valkyrie if you don’t want her to kill you.”

The woman’s eyes narrow to slits. “You better listen to yourself, Stark, if you don’t want me to set an example on your dead fucking body.” Chuckling, Tony grabs Peter’s elbow and squeezes past the woman blocking the entrance. “I don’t remember inviting you-“

Her words of protest are cut off by Thor’s booming voice sounding from the sofa. “Tony! Good to see you’re finally coming to visit. What’s taken you so long?”

“I’ve been busy disciplining my pet,” Tony says, unfazed by the embarrassed wheeze coming from the kid. “He’s more work than I thought.”

Thor glances at the kid, who’s shrinking under the large man’s intimidating gaze. “I heard… If you need any help some day, tell me. I know my way around stubborn bucks.”

Whereas Brunnhilde shakes her head in disbelieve and leaves the room, Tony throws Thor an amused look. “Pun intended?”

“Always,” Thor grins. “Are you here for Loki or do you want a beer?”

“Next time. Is he up yet?”

“He is,” says a dry voice from the corridor. “Morning, Tony.”

“Morning. Thought I’d walk my _puppy_ and stop by while I’m at it.” He knows he’s overdoing it with the dog jokes, but he wants Loki to catch the implication. After all, he’s one step closer to the finish line and, by extension, to winning their bet.

To his utmost satisfaction, Loki does take the hint. “Mhm. Don’t say he’s properly _trained_ already?”

“You’d be surprised.” Not wanting Peter to catch on, Tony drops the chit-chat. “Where’s my stuff?”

“The groceries are in the fridge and in these bags, and the boxes we picked up for you are in the storage room.”

“And the boat and plane-”

“Are over at the jetty, duh.”

“Keys?” Silently, Loki points at the counter. “Thanks. I’ll take them with me and lock it in my safe. Can’t have you let them lying around carelessly.” After all, even though Peter most likely doesn’t know how to fly a water airplane, controlling a motorboat isn’t all that hard and Tony doesn’t want to take any risks. He orders Peter to grab two of the lighter, smaller boxes and follows suit with one of the heavier ones. Since Thor offers to help, they only have to go one more time until they’ve moved everything into Tony’s house _._

“Put the groceries away. I’ll unpack these. When you’re done, go and sit on the sofa. You can watch TV or read one of the books lying on the headboard over there.”

Peter doesn’t seem to know how to deal with Tony being unusually nice to him, so he just stutters out a few “Yes, sir” and “Thank you, sir” before following his commands. Although he probably understands that he’s being rewarded for being such a (more or less) willing slut earlier, he most certainly didn’t expect Tony to be _this_ nice to him. Well. It’s not going to last forever.

At lunch, Tony takes a short break at setting up JARVIS and prepares three sandwiches. “Do you want one of these or stale bread?”

Peter, who has spent the last two hours with skimming through one of Tony’s books about mechanical engineering, swallows thickly. “I, uhm… one of these, please.”

“Well, you know what you’re going to have to do for it.” When the kid shivers visibly, Tony gives an irritated snort. “What? Do you think I’ve discarded the rules all of a sudden?”

“N-No. Of course not, sir. Sorry if I- if I gave you that impression.”

“All right. Then get down on your knees unless you changed your mind.”

Quickly shaking his head, Peter ducks under the table, takes Tony’s cock out and puts it in his mouth. Satisfied, the man eats two of the sandwiches before letting Peter have the last one. In order to get some more calories in him, he also hands him a can of coke. To Tony’s amusement, the look on the boy’s face when he downs it in a few sips isn’t that different to the one he showed right after his orgasm.

Tony spends the whole afternoon setting up JARVIS and running a few silent tests. For dinner, he’s agreed to attend a barbeque with the others, so he locks Peter back into the bedroom with two more sandwiches and the book he’d started reading earlier. “You don't have to- Please, I won’t try to escape, sir, I promise,” the boy pleads when Tony makes a move to cuff his ankle to the floorboard.

“Oh yeah? The last time I let you roam around freely you almost called the cops on us. Remember, one more stunt like this and you’ll spend the rest of your days gagged and tied up as my own personal fleshlight, which I will have no other use for than to dump my cum in. Do you understand?”

Peter seems to regret speaking up already. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

Now that he's thinking of it... “To be honest, it is a tempting idea nevertheless. You’d look so fucking hot… Thanks for inspiring me,” Tony teases, ruffling the shivering boy’s curly hair before leaving with a nasty smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware this isn't the usual "captive - sex slave - stockholm" fic, but I still hope you like it despite (or maybe even because?) of it. I still have a bunch of ideas regarding both smut scenes as well as some kind of actual plot and I'm kind of excited to write them down.  
> \--  
> Also, I know all of you/us are going through hard times right now, so I want you to know that if you need someone to talk or just feel bored, please feel free to contact me either here or on discord/tumblr (linked in my bio). You're not alone, even in times of "social distancing" 💗 And last but not least, happy Easter 🐇


	17. Sixteen (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Peter tries his best to be good, it still doesn't seem to be enough.

Peter occupies himself with the book until it gets too dark outside to read any further. Since the cuff around his ankle restricts him for reaching the light switch, he gets bored pretty quickly, falling asleep after lying in the dark for about half an hour, the blanket tightly wrapped around his body for once. When Tony returns it has to be way past midnight, and to Peter’s great relief, the man seems too tired to fuck or try anything else, marking this day as the best one Peter has had since crossing paths with this fucking lunatic.

It hasn’t all been good, though. Peter can’t forgive himself for what happened in the morning and he did warm Tony’s dick with his mouth in exchange for lunch. However, the day had been a lot better than he could have hoped for, and he shamefully has to admit that he’d probably do it all over again if it meant getting spared any further pain or distress.

Therefore, when Tony asks him if he wants to get pleasured first thing in the morning, Peter once more affirms, albeit with even less confidence than twenty-four hours ago. This time, the man starts right off with sucking his dick; it feels so unbelievably good, and the best thing about it is that Peter can imagine MJ doing it to him. And yet, although he’d rather die than admit it, he can’t help missing the amazing feeling of something rubbing against his prostate. It’s just… it barely hurt yesterday and-

 _Fuck._ Moaning, Peter digs his fingers into the bed sheets. Has the mere memory of prostate stimulation actually brought him closer to his climax? _P-a-t-h-e-t-i-c._

It’s already forgotten again a second later when Tony takes him all down to the base. Peter’s toes curl and he gasps in pleasure, ready to give in any second now-

Until Tony stops _._ For a second, Peter actually considers begging him to let him cum, but the very tiny bit of pride he has left forbids it, leaving him with no other choice than to bite down on his lip so hard he’s drawing blood. Tony, however, seems to have different plans anyway. “You didn’t think I’d be the only one doing all the hard work now, did you?”

“N-No, sir,” Peter whimpers, still trying to regain his breath. He was _so_ fucking close!

“Be a good _slut_ then and try to imitate the techniques on me. Now that you know how it’s done, it can’t be that difficult anymore. If you’re good, I’ll finish sucking you off after me.”

 _He should have known._ “A-And if I’m bad?”

“Oh, I’d hate to ruin the surprise for you,” Tony chuckles viciously. “But rest assured that I’d still get what I want, one way or another.”

Meaning he’d probably rape him again and-

_Uhm. This is rape too, genius._

After all, Peter wouldn’t have asked for it if he hadn’t been afraid of the consequences; he was coerced into doing it. Therefore, it is still rape, just a less physically painful one.

Knowing he doesn’t really have any other choice, Peter forces his tensed muscles to relax and eventually changes position with Tony. To his biggest relief, the man doesn’t tell him eat him out and seems satisfied enough when Peter immediately starts sucking his dick. He tries to remember and imitate all of Tony’s movements, which is easier said than done considering he had not been able to focus on anything other than the blissful feeling the older man’s tongue and hands had left on his body.

On top of that, Peter is still somewhat clumsy and lacking both confidence and spirit, but for the first time, Tony hardly intervenes. Twice, he presses his head further down, forcing him to gag when the head of his dick hits Peter’s throat. Will he ever get any better at this? In an effort to gloss over his inability – and indignation – to deepthroat the older man, Peter carefully starts to caress Tony’s balls with his right hand while using his left one to move it up and down the last two inches of skin he’s unable to take into his mouth without gagging.

“Good thing,” Tony eventually praises with a deep moan, and a few minutes later, he climaxes. Automatically, Peter tries to swallow as much as he can. When two or three drops drip from the corners of his mouth, he immediately catches them with his thumb and licks them off. Not because he likes the taste, but because he knows it’s expected of him. Also, he can’t deny being somewhat used to it at this point, meaning he’s not particularly grossed out by it anymore. Does he still despise it? Yes. But he also despises olives and mushroom and the thought of having to eat them doesn’t make him want to cry or throw up either.

_What the fuck is he even thinking about? Is he that far gone already?_

Peter snaps out of it just in time to register Tony pushing him onto his back again. He does redeem his promise and finishes him off, but not before edging him for a second time. Thankfully, he only waits for a few seconds before getting back at it though, rewarding Peter with another very intense orgasm. Tony doesn’t swallow this timet but keeps the cum in his mouth instead. He then pins the boy down by lying on top of him, forces his lips apart and spits Peter’s cum into his now open mouth before kissing him hungrily. Somehow, this is worse than having to swallow Tony's juices.

After what felt like a minute, he breaks the kiss and licks down Peter’s neck, where he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and sucks hard, littering Peter’s throat with countless bruises and bite marks. To the boy’s horror, he can feel his dick getting slightly hard again, but Tony fortunately either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

When the older man has finally had enough, he looks down at his prey with a joyful glint in his eyes. “You have been a very good boy these past two days _._ I can’t wait to teach you more about your body and how things work, though I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for the _special_ delivery I’m expecting soon.”

When Peter lets out a terrified squeak, Tony laughs and gets off of him. “Get up. Take a shower, brush your teeth and then prepare my breakfast.”

 _Wait, what?_ “B-Brush my teeth, sir?”

“Indeed. I don’t have a spare toothbrush though, so you’re gonna use mine for now.”

 _That’s fucking disgusting._ Still, better than nothing… right? “Thank you, sir.”

When Peter steps out of the shower half an hour later, he finds new boxers waiting for him as well as a t-shirt and shorts. He knows they belong to Tony and he’s pretty sure the boxers are used, but he barely feels the need to care. The shower and the toothpaste have made him feel so much better, so much _cleaner_ , and for now nothing would be able to change that anytime soon. Also, when was the last time he’s been allowed to wear _clothes?_

The only problem is that they are too big, forcing Peter to grab the hem of the pants to prevent them from slipping down. When Tony realizes that Peter can’t really make him hem and eggs with only one hand, he brings him one of his belts.

All in all, Tony seems satisfied with the breakfast. The bacon doesn’t look as crispy as usual, but the man doesn’t complain and lets Peter have some without even asking for anything in return.

Tony spends the morning with once again working on his computer and _doing stuff_ with the other wires and devices from the boxes Loki gave him. Although Peter’s tempted to ask what he’s doing with it, he’s too scared and too loath to voluntarily start a conversation or attract Tony’s attention. Therefore, he focuses on the book he’s already halfway through, risking peek every other minute.

At lunch, Peter is presented with a problem when Tony commands him to make chili con carne. “Uhm, I-I can’t… I have never cooked that before, sir…S-Sorry,” he quickly adds when the older man narrows his eyes to slits.

“You don’t know how to cook chili con carne? How about lasagna?”

“I-In fact I… I haven’t tried a lot of meals except… noodles and stuff.”

It’s obvious that Tony isn’t pleased at all. “Has your Aunt hottie never taught you how to cook?”

 _Aunt hottie?_ “I- No, we- I mean, my…my uncle used to cook before he-“ Peter’s voice dies when he feels tears building up in his eyes.

Tony seems completely unfazed by his emotional reaction. “So? You said he died what, two years ago? Has she never cooked for you after that?”

Although the last thing Peter wants is to casually chat about May with his rapist, he doesn’t want to get punished for being disrespectful either. “She did, sometimes. But she was very busy with work, so we mostly had instant meals or went out to eat.”

“Speaking of…Judging by her look she earned some extra money by whoring herself out, didn’t she? I mean, I highly doubt a _nurse’s_ wage would be enough to rent even a shitty apartment in Sunnyside, raise a teenager and go out for dinner a few times a week.”

Peter’s first instinct was to claw Tony’s out his eyes for calling May a whore, but then it hits him. Tony not only _knows_ which neighborhood of Queens they live in, he also _knows_ that May is a nurse and that she’s unusually attractive. The ‘Aunt hottie’ comment from a minute ago hasn’t been a bad joke. He _knows_. It doesn’t matter _how_ he does; what matters is that he _does_. He can’t risk being angry or disobedient. He can’t let May get hurt.

“I-I can try to cook it, sir.”

Tony’s mouth curls into a smirk. “You really need to work on your diction...it's one more thing your lame exuses of guardians failed to teach you. Instead of saying you _can try_ to cook it, you should be saying that you _will cook_ it. And you better make sure it tastes decent enough or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

Naturally, the meal Peter serves Tony forty minutes later tastes and looks nothing like chili con carne. In his despair, the boy ended up mixing ground meat with beans and spiking _ketchup_ with half a glass of chili flakes and pepper. Whereas the meat was overcooked, the weird-looking, way too spicy sauce was rather undercooked, causing Tony to hit him across the face and threaten to lock him into the chest freezer if it ever happened again. “What am I supposed to eat now, huh?”

“I-I can t-try, I mean, I _will make_ you a sandwich.”

“All right,” Tony hisses, eyes gleaming dangerously. “You have five minutes.”

To Peter’s misfortune, Tony doesn’t offer him anything to eat. “You will cook it again later. If it’s still not good then, you won’t be getting anything for dinner either.”

“B-But sir, I don’t even have a recipe, I-“

“You don’t say. You know, you _could have_ asked me for one.” 

“Y-You’re right, sir. It’s my fault. Uhm, can I please have a recipe?”

“Ask Romanoff. Second house to the right, the one with the ugly ass flowerpot next to the door.”

He should ask the world’s most famous assassin for a recipe? “Can’t you-,” Peter begins, gesturing at Tony’s phone and laptop, but gets dismissed by the man glaring at him even more threateningly than earlier. “ _What_?”

Swallowing down the lump in this throat, Peter slowly backs away. “N-Nothing, I’m on m-my way.”

For about a second the boy considers running and hiding somewhere on the island until night falls, waiting for a chance to steal a phone from _somewhere_ and call for help. However, he’s too afraid of the consequences in case he fails, Tony’s intimidating warning from last night still ringing in his ears. Therefore, he finds himself in front of what is supposedly Natasha Romanoff’s door a minute later.

After gathering all his courage, he knocks, trying to stay steady on his shaky legs. What is he so afraid of? She’s always been somewhat nice to him, so he really shouldn’t-

Despite his efforts to stay calm, Peter can’t help flinching when Natasha opens the door. It’s obvious she’s expected anyone but him. “You? What the fuck are you doing here, kid?” Almost frantically, she glances in every direction before focusing back on the boy’s face. “Have you run off?”

Peter whimpers at the harsh tone. “N-No, Ma’am, uhm… “ … What should he call Tony in front of her? He’s never spoken about him in third person before… “M-Mr. Stark sent me here to, uhm, to ask you something…”

“He sent you here?” Natasha seems rather skeptical, to say the least. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, Ma’am. He said… he said you would be able to tell me how to, uhm, make chili con carne.”

For a few seconds the woman gapes at him in disbelieve, but then she champs with rage. “He said _what?_ Okay, how about you tell him to go fuck himself and google it if he wants to cook it so badly?”

When Peter realizes she’s about to smash the door in his face, he loses all his inhibitions. “ _Please,_ Ma’am. He’s going to punish me if I mess it up again.”

She stops the door from shutting, eyes flickering to the bruise on his cheek and then down to the bite marks and hickeys littering the boy’s neck. “Do you have to cook for him?”

Peter blushes. “Y-Yeah and I, uhm, already messed it up earlier. I’ll get another chance at dinner, but I don’t know what to do and what ingredients I even need...”

With a deep sigh, Natasha glances over her shoulder before opening the door again. “All right. Come in, but don’t you dare try anything.”

“I won’t, Ma’am,” Peter hastily says and steps into the house. It doesn’t seem that different to the one he shares with Tony; similar furniture, similar size, similar floor…

 _…_ The one he _shares with Tony? …_

They’re not _sharing_ a house; he’s _being held captive_ in _Tony’s home._

Peter follows the woman to the kitchen counter, trying to resist roaming his eyes. If he saw her phone lying around, he might get weak, and he can’t let it happen. Natasha grabs three books from a kitchen shelf and places them on the counter in front of Peter before flipping through them. “All right, here.” Halfway through the second book, she turns it around so Peter can skim over the text of the recipe.

 _Oh._ He really messed that one up, didn’t he?

“Can I, uhm, borrow it or do you need it yourself?”

“You can have it. In fact, take the others too if you need more… inspiration. Just bring them back tomorrow or whenever.”

“R-Really? Thank you, Ma’am, I really appreciate it. Should I, I-I mean, can I… do anything for you in return?”

“Do anything for me? Like what?”

“Uhm… I don’t know, like… like…” Peter blushes horribly when the assassin narrows her eyes to a slit, obviously outraged about the possible implication. “Do you seriously think I’m like Tony?”

“N-No, Ma’am,” Peter whimpers, dropping his gaze. “N-Not at all, I- I just thought- Sorry. Please forgive me, Ma’am, I didn’t mean to insult you o-or imply that you- that you would- I’m sorry.”

When Natasha makes a fast move, he winces and bows his head, waiting for the blow that… never comes. Instead, the woman sighs deeply. When she speaks again, her voice is surprisingly warm. “It’s... all right, you don’t have to apologize. Maybe you should go, though, before Tony… wonders what’s taking you so long.”

“Okay. Thank you, Ma’am.” Thoroughly relieved Peter looks up again, feeling somewhat embarrassed to see her smiling pitifully. The boy quickly grabs the books and turns to go, mumbling a weirdly high-pitched ‘Bye, Ma’am’, only to be stopped by Natasha speaking once more. “Actually, there is something you could do for me.”

His stomach clenches in fear when he glances at her nervously. “W-What, Ma’am?”

“Please stop calling me Ma’am. Call me Nat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it <3


	18. Seventeen (MJ & Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ and the other heist victims have to return to school; Tony introduces Peter to 'someone'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, here it is, the MJ chapter I've been wanting to write for about 10 weeks/chapters lol...I always came up with other things somehow. I made the chapter 3k words instead of 2k because of it :)

“Are you ready?”

Michelle takes a deep breath but her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. She’s _not_ ready. She would never be ready for this. “I am.”

Whereas Betty squeezes her left hand, Ned squeezes her right. Feeling safer, she lets them guide her through the doors in front of them, ignoring the students staring at them as if they were contagious. The girl keeps her eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet, not looking up until she can hear Ned’s shaky voice announcing, “There are the others.”

 _The others._ As in, the other classmates who had been held hostage with them. They’re standing together in front of the lockers, separated from the _normal_ students whose lives hadn’t been turned upside down two weeks ago. Who didn’t have to see what they saw. Who didn’t… who didn’t-

“Hey.” It’s Yasmin, pulling MJ into a tight hug. Reluctantly, the girl hugs back, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Apart from Betty and Ned, Michelle hasn’t responded to anyone trying to get in touch with her, not even to _the others._ All students who had been taken hostage were exempted from school for 10 days following the end of the heist, to give them a chance to _recover_ from the _shock_ and _malnutrition._

10 fucking days to recover from the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to them. How could Michelle _ever_ recover from seeing her boyfriend-

“Are you okay?” Yasmin asks cautiously.

“Mhm.” Quickly, Michelle pulls away from the other girl, only to be pulled into another hug from Zora. MJ knows they mean well and want to give her comfort, but she rather wished they’d leave her alone.

“Have you heard anything from-“ Jason starts, only to be cut off abruptly by Betty vigorously shaking her head before making a meaningful gesture in MJ’s direction, successfully shutting him up.

“Maybe we, uhm, should go to class,” Brad suggests when the bell rings. The group disperses; Michelle and Betty are forced to separate from Ned for the first two periods, but Flash and Zach are in AP Calc with them. Their fellow classmates, who had been chatting and laughing when _the victims_ entered the classroom, immediately fall silent, gaping at them open-mouthed.

If it hadn’t been for Zach, Michelle would have turned around on the spot and walked out again. “What the fuck are you staring at?” the trans boy spits before marching towards his desk angrily.

“Come on,” Flash mumbles, keeping his eyes on the floor. All his usual confidence and arrogance seems to have vanished, and with a pang of guilt Michelle remembers what he’d been forced to do. And since some of the hostages have spoken about it in interviews, there’s no doubt the other students know about it too… she can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now.

The first two lessons of the day go by surprisingly fast, but then it’s time for AP Chemistry in third period, which turns out to be the most depressing and quiet class Michelle has ever attended. Even their teacher Mrs. Miller speaks with a shaky, silent voice, and not one of the students seems eager to raise their hands whenever she asks a question. 

Michelle barely pays attention; every few minutes her eyes flicker over to the empty desk between her and Ned, wishing nothing more than to see Peter smiling back at her. He’d been the most eager and attentive student in class, never failing at giving a correct answer and make Mrs. Miller smile motherly. Eventually, the classroom blurs before her eyes, and she desperately tries to think about her Instagram post from three days ago. _Stay strong._ If she can’t even stay strong, then how could Peter?

At lunch, the whole school it seems keeps staring at _the victims;_ some of the students don’t even bother to hide the fact that they’re talking, _whispering,_ about them. When Sally and Abe ask Betty if they can sit with them, the blonde girl politely agrees, forcing Michelle to listen to them speaking about how _awful_ this all is and how _sorry_ they are. And then, they ask what she has been afraid of ever since she walked through those doors earlier.

“Have you heard _anything_ from Peter?”

“N-No,” Betty quickly answers, glancing at Michelle nervously. “We, uhm… N-Ned’s parents keep in touch with his aunt, but the FBI doesn’t seem to have a clue yet.”

Sally lets out a sob. “This is so horrible. I’ve been talking to Cindy and Liz and they… they told me to tell you how sorry they are and that they’re praying for him.”

 _Liz._ Peter had had a few rather chaotic dates with her back in sophomore year before she started to go out with another senior. They have remained friends though, and despite graduating last year, Liz is still part of their old Decathlon group chat. It’s nice to hear that she cares…Although, the fact that she even _knows_ what Peter has been going through thanks to the news exploiting his abuse almost daily for the past 10 days is unbearable. 

“E-Excuse me,” Michelle chokes out, jumps up from her seat and stumbles out of the cafeteria towards the bathrooms, where she locks herself into one of the stalls for the rest of the lunch break.

The afternoon passes by somewhat in a blur. When Michelle, Betty and Ned meet at the lockers to go home, one of the jocks calls over from the other side of the hallway loud enough that everyone standing in the corridoor can hear him. “Hey, Jones! Is it true your boyfriend was in on the whole thing?” It’s Justin, the biggest idiot on the fucking planet.

Whereas MJ freezes on the spot, Ned reacts in an instant. “What?”

“The Daily Bugle has just published an article about Parker being secretly in love with the guy who shot that nasty porn video with him. I gotta say, I’ve always known it was fake, I mean… who would jizz during a rape?” Justin laughs and looks at his friends in the hope of getting approval; only one gives him a weak smile, the others glance at each other awkwardly.

MJ’s hands start trembling so violently she almost drops the books she’s holding. “You are a disgusting piece of shit,” she growls, speaking for the first time in hours. Tears of anger and hate gather in the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t take that back _right now-_ “

“Then what?” Justin comes closer, oblivious to the hateful glares sent in his direction from almost everyone in the hallway. “Look, I understand you’re sad that your boyfriend turned out to be a treacherous faggot, but I can assure you that not every-“

Michelle would never know what Justin wanted to say. Simultaneously she and Ned have made a move in a bid to charge at him, but Brad’s faster. Out of nowhere he jumps forward, smacks the jock across his perplexed face and wrestles him to the ground. Despite Brad also acting like a jerk towards Peter, especially after him and MJ had started dating, he’s now literally fighting to defend his honor; MJ can’t help being moved to tears.

Chaos ensues when Justin’s friends and some other students including Flash and Zach interfere in an effort to break the fight up, so Betty quickly pulls MJ aside. “Let’s go, come on.”

“Sh-Shouldn’t we help him?”

“I think he’s fine,” Ned mumbles, ashen faced. Together, they hurry down the stairs and bolt out the door, relieved to feel fresh air filling their lungs. “Do you think it’s true?” Ned asks when they get off school grounds, “That there’s an article l-like that?”

Michelle’s stomach clenches, and when she opens the website on her phone, she immediately feels like throwing up. How could anyone write so much bullshit and still be able to face themselves in the mirror?

“Nobody with even one brain cell takes the Daily Bugle seriously,” Betty says soothingly, but Michelle only shakes her head in despair. “You know that there’s always gonna be stupid people who’d believe anything,” the girl says, still fighting against the urge to puke. “And if May sees this… oh god.”

“We should talk to her,” Ned suggests, “She’s still on sick leave and… she always says that we’re welcome anytime.” After debating about it for a minute, they say goodbye to Betty and take the train to Sunnyside. Every step further towards Peter’s home already takes them a lot of effort, but it’s even worse when they’re eventually inside the apartment, facing a desperate and crestfallen May.

She’s already read the article and can’t seem to be able to stop crying. “He’s s-sixteen, for Christ’s sake. I can’t believe s-someone’s willing to villainize a _child_ j-just to get clicks on their stupid website.”

“Are you going to sue them?” MJ asks, not daring to glance towards Peter’s room or look at the couch they had made out on two weeks ago.

“W-With what money?” May sobs, “also, what does it matter? The damage is done already, a lawsuit won’t change that there’s always gonna be someone believing it.”

“Maybe if the FBI goes public about Peter giving us clues-“

“Officer Scott said that they will go public with it either soon, but they can’t say it’s Peter who has given the clue because they’re afraid that h-he might get…hurt if _that guy_ finds out it was him.”

“What have they found out about him?”

“She’s rather vague about it, but she teased that they were able to narrow down the suspects. Apparently, they need to verify a few more details before going public with a name. And she has an idea on how to lure them out of their hiding place and keep Peter out of it, at least for the time being. I just hope she’s right.“

“Yeah,” MJ mumbles, her tear-filled eyes fixed on the wall with the framed photographs showing her beaming boyfriend between his aunt and deceased uncle. “I hope so too.”

* * *

“What are you planning on doing with all these?” Tony snorts when Peter comes back with not one, but three books of recipes stashed under his arm.

“Looking up recipes, sir.” _No shit._ When Tony growls warningly, Peter hastens to add, “I-I meant… I was hoping you would tell me what you liked to eat, so I can write the recipes down for future use? Sir?”

Is it just him or does the boy seem oddly _normal_ all of a sudden? “That’s an astonishingly good idea, slut. Put them down on the counter, I’ll flick through them later.”

For a second, Tony considers showing Peter the very amusing article Clint has found on the internet earlier. The Daily Bugle is facing a nationwide shit storm right now for publishing a bullshit theory about Peter being in on the heist because of him and ‘the lead Avenger’ being a secret _couple_ , stating that they’d done non-con role-play to keep the hostages at bay and lure the FBI in… Although it’s a fun read indeed, Tony decides against showing it to the teenager. After all, he’s finally started to give in, and if he showed him, Peter might be hesitant to ask Tony to pleasure him again.

And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?

Therefore, Tony continues his work while letting AC/DC blast through the small house. After half an hour, he eventually types the last Python command into the console and tells Peter to come closer. “I want to show you something…” After the system has finished booting up, he turns off the music and clears his throat. “Peter, say hello to JARVIS.”

Tony chuckles when the faintly robotic voice sounding through the living room a moment later causes the boy to jump. “Hello, Peter. Nice to meet you.”

“W-What-“ Peter stammers and looks around frantically before setting his eyes on Tony’s laptop. Just to prove a point, the man makes sure that Peter sees him shutting it down. “JARVIS, why don’t you tell my little fuck toy who you are?”

“Your fuck toy, boss?”

“Peter’s normally referred to as slut or fuck toy around here.”

“I see. What do you want me to call him?”

“Whatever you see fit.”

“Then I’ll call him Peter, boss. Sexual innuendoes tend to make me a little bit uncomfortable.”

Peter can’t stop gaping at Tony with an open mouth, blatantly intimidated by the highly advanced A.I. speaking to them from _somewhere_. Tony’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Fine with me, JARVIS. Now, tell him who you are.”

“My name is ‘Just A Rather Very Intelligent System’, in short, JARVIS. I’m named after Edwin Jarvis, former-“

“Just tell him what you do,” Tony interrupts, not wanting Peter to hear more than he needs.

“Sure, boss. I’m a natural-language user interface computer and artificially intelligent system, tasked with running business for the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s security.”

“He’s basically here to make my life easier and to keep an eye on you,” Tony concludes. “From now on, I could let you have my phone and laptop without having to be afraid that you’d use it in any way I wouldn’t want you to. And he’ll alert me immediately when you do anything you’re not supposed to do. He has his eyes _everywhere_ , trust me.”

Although Peter looks rather worried, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe him fully, so Tony gets up and takes the gun out of his safe. As soon as the kid’s eyes fall on the weapon, he wheezes, pressing his back firmly against the couch.

“Go over to the counter and grab the biggest kitchen knife you can find. Then come towards me with it.”

“S-S-Sir?”

It’s a delight to see the boy quaking with fear, sending a jolt of arousal through Tony’s body. When Peter doesn’t comply right away, the man aims the gun at him. “Now.”

Trembling all over, Peter gets up and stumbles over to the kitchen counter, where he hesitantly grabs the knife. Carefully and very slowly, he comes closer, the tip of the knife tilted towards Tony threateningly. And closer. Until he’s a little too close to Tony’s liking. “Uhm, JARVIS?”

Peter looks less scared and more triumphant now. Just in case, the man cocks the gun and aims it directly at the boy’s head. “JARVIS, I told you to alert me whenever he does anything he’s not supposed to do. Grabbing a knife and creeping towards me with it is one of those things.”

The A.I. has the decency to sound abashed when it speaks. “My apologies, boss. However, you told him to grab the knife and you are equipped with a gun. He’s no real threat to you right now. Even if he wanted to throw the knife at you, it would take him approximately 3.49 seconds before it would hit you, meaning you’d have a chance of 97.51 percent to wound him fatally before he’s even finished his swing.”

Peter’s eyes widen in complete and utter astonishment, making it Tony’s turn to gloat and smirk in triumph. “I gotta say, JARVIS, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when you managed to surprise even me. Boy, put the knife back.”

Only when the knife is stashed away again, Tony puts the gun back into the safe. Maybe he should make sure to lock away the knives too from now on; after all, he might have given the boy stupid ideas.

For the next hour, they don’t speak to one another. Whereas Tony busies himself with the tracking chip he’s going to inject into Peter tomorrow, the boy flips through the cookbooks. After a while though, Tony notices that the child is watching him closely. “ _What?_ ”

“Did you create him all by yourself?”

“JARVIS? Yes.”

“How does he work?”

If he didn’t experience it firsthand, Tony would have a hard time believing it; the little shit seems genuinely impressed and interested _._ Unless, of course, it’s a trick to get Tony to talk so he can try and outsmart the system one day… “What do you know about artificial intelligence?”

Apparently, _a lot._ Before Tony knows it, a torrent of words is hailing down on him when Peter starts rambling, his voice nearly cracking from _excitement._ It’s apparent he’s less an engineer than a general science nerd, but he sure does know more than Tony expected. It’s alarming as well as it is fascinating.

“… I mean, we all know that the main problem with the Hidden Markov Model is that it can’t model the infinite possible combinations of natural language, right, so my friend Ned developed- “

And just like that, Peter seems to remember where he is and whom he’s speaking to. The tiny spark of life that has returned to his eyes fades as quickly as it came, turning his pupils blank and lifeless again. It’s rather… depressing to watch. For the first time since he’s kidnapped the boy, Tony feels strangely conflicted; usually, he likes to see the kid broken and fearful, but it’s been undeniably adorable watching him flourish like this.

 _…Adorable?_ It’s not acceptable (or excusable) to call Peter _adorable_ unless it’s immediately followed by the words ‘when he desperately begs for Tony’s cock’. _What the fuck is he thinking?_

“The Hidden Markov Model, huh? You know, instead of blabbering about things you don’t understand, you should maybe focus on more important things. Or have you forgotten about the purpose of your life already?”

“No, sir,” Peter whispers, staring down at his hands once more.

“What _is_ the purpose of your life?”

“To… serve and please you, s-sir?”

“Exactly. Now shut up and start writing down the recipes I’m naming you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, when I decided to do a part 2 I just wanted to write some more torture and smut scenes but I can’t stop blowing this up into this long plotty thing that I’m sure will make everyone lose interest some day but I CAN’T STOP askfjasld 😂 I feel like nothing happened but it's still 3k somehow 😂


	19. Eighteen (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's constant manipulations greatly influence Peter's subconscious mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** The usual, esp. Humiliation and Forced Masturbation
> 
> Thought it was time again to thank you all for your support 😘😘 It's the best motivation, really ❤️

The chili con carne Peter serves Tony for dinner tastes a lot better than the one from lunch. Granted, it’s still far from perfect, but Tony says it’s acceptable ‘for a start’. Afterwards, the man commands JARVIS to establish a connection between his laptop and the TV and orders Peter to sit on the couch. “Have you ever seen Breaking Bad?”

Peter, who has expected another one of Tony's wicked games or punishments, can't help feeling a little relieved. “Uhm…N-No sir.”

“It’s pretty good, you’ll love it. I’ve been waiting for ages to finally find time to rewatch it. Let me tell you, the whole heist planning was a pain in the ass…”

Once more, Peter finds himself in a battle with his conscience and curiosity. Should he inquire about the heist? It would be interesting to find out how they’ve planned it and how they even got into the bank, but…earlier today, Peter has _forgotten_ about Tony being his kidnapper, rapist and abuser, just because he's been so deeply impressed by the man’s genius invention and incredible knowledge about A.I.s. Initiating a conversation with him is almost as bad as asking Tony to pleasure him (if not worse?) and he can’t let that happen ever again.

Therefore, Peter keeps his mouth closed, letting his eyes roam. There must be speakers and cameras in here, but where? He needs to figure it out or he’ll never be able to get even the tiniest chance to escape - or _kill_ \- his captor.

To Tony’s misfortune, Netflix seems to be having problems today, so he’s forced to turn on the TV once more, eventually settling on a superhero team-up movie. After around thirty minutes, Tony skids closer, resting his hand on Peter’s thigh. Although he’s wearing pants, the boy’s skin starts to burn and itch under the touch, but he doesn’t dare to pull his leg away. Just like always, Peter doesn’t really pay attention to the screen for long, his mind drifting off to May and his friends once more. It gets harder to escape the here and now though when Tony’s hand moves to his crotch, squeezing his dick through the fabric. He’s scared that the man will ask him if he wants more because he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to give in again, but to his greatest relief, Tony eventually stops and orders him to get him a beer.

Almost eagerly, Peter complies, relieved to get up and escape the groping hands. When he returns from the fridge, Tony shifts in his seat, changing his position so that he can rest his naked feet in the boy’s lap. “Give me a massage.”

If someone had asked Peter two weeks ago if he ever wanted to massage some older guy’s feet, he’d probably have retched, but at this point, he’d honestly rather do this for the rest of his life than touch the man’s penis ever again.

_What’s the real difference though?_

A dick, feet... it's all just flesh and skin, basically. He needs to get over it already…As long as Tony doesn’t want to hurt or touch him, he shouldn’t complain and be a little grateful, at least.

After the movie is over, Tony decides it’s time to go to bed. After brushing his teeth once again with Tony's toothbrush, Peter enters the bedroom and gasps, unable to refrain from shivering at once. The AC in the room seems to run on full power, bringing the temperature down to 55 degrees Fahrenheit, according to the display.

Tony doesn’t seem surprised when he joins Peter a few seconds later. Humming gleefully, the man opens the closet and takes out a very fluffy looking blanket before throwing it onto the bed. Next, he puts on long sleeved pajamas and lies down, wrapping himself in both the normal and the fluffy blanket. “What are you waiting for? Get naked and lie down. Or do I have to cuff you again?”

“Uhm…n-no, sir, sorry,” Peter says and hastens to take off his clothes. Then, he sits down on the mattress, flinching when his naked skin touches the cold sheets. Since Tony has claimed both blankets for himself, he’s already freezing pretty badly. Should he dare to ask if he can put his day clothes back on?

“JARVIS, turn off the light and keep an eye on Peter. If he makes any move he’s not supposed to, sound the alarm and contact the others.”

“Roger, boss. Good night.”

The shivering boy turns around, racking his brain trying to figure out what Tony wants from him. It’s no doubt one of his wicked games, but the only solution he can come up with is a little too obvious. Still, he decides to give it a shot, because no matter how desperately he tries to ignore the cold and sleep, he can’t. It’s fucking unbearable, even more so because the AC is blowing the cold air almost directly in his direction.

“C-Can I p-please put my c-c-clothes back on, s-s-sir?” Peter eventually asks with chattering teeth, not too surprised when Tony declines his request with a simple ‘No’. “P-Please, sir. I-I will- I will pleasure you i-in return.”

“I said _no._ N-O- No _._ If you can’t think of anything more creative to ask me for, I’m afraid you’re going to have to freeze for the rest of the night.”

 _Something more creative? Like what?_ “U-Uhm…C-Can I have one of the b-blankets then, p-please?”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s cold, I need them.”

 _No shit, Sherlock._ Somehow, Peter doubts asking for Tony’s pajamas would be the right question either; therefore, there’s only one logical option left. An option he’s already eliminated during the first night. Granted, it had been a lot less cold back then and Peter hadn’t completely sold his soul to the devil yet. _Fuck it._

“I-Is there…m-maybe space under y-your blankets, sir?” For a few seconds, Peter’s waiting with bated breath, until eventually-

“If you get close to me, there might be. Be careful not to touch my skin until you’re warmed up a bit though.”

Only hesitantly Peter moves closer, fighting to hold back tears when Tony lifts the blankets invitingly. “Get a move on, I don’t want to get cold.”

Pulling himself together, Peter eventually slips under the blankets, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when he feels how warm it is. And yet, he starts crying the second the blanket is wrapped around him tightly, disappointed in himself for letting Tony win yet another round. At first, they lay there back to back, but as soon as Peter has stopped crying, Tony rolls over and comes dangerously close, nibbling at his earlobe. “Touch yourself.”

 _Oh my god._ The tears are back immediately, but Peter knows he can’t deny Tony’s ~~request~~ order. He’s sleeping in the bed and must do whatever Tony wants without fighting back. That’s the rule. If he violates it, he’ll get punished. It’s as simple as that.

Therefore, Peter slowly moves his hand and wraps it around his limp dick, awkwardly moving it up and down. “Good boy,” Tony grins once more before grabbing Peter’s wrist. “Here, let me make it more comfortable and wet for you.” The teen shutters when Tony moves his hand to the man’s mouth and sucks on his digits one by one before letting him continue. “I think it’s time I reminded you about a rule I set during the heist… before you cum, make sure to ask me for permission first.”

“O-Okay, sir,” Peter sobs in defeat, only to receive another praise in return. Just when the boy thinks it can’t get any worse, Tony starts to mumble vulgarities into his ear, things like ‘Can’t wait to bury my dick balls-deep into you again’ or telling him how he wished he could turn back time and re-live the moment when Peter had sucked him off for the first time.

It takes a while, but eventually Peter starts panting heavily; his voice is shaking when he asks Tony if he can cum. “I don’t think so, slut. Not yet. First, tell me how much you normally enjoy it when I'm touching you and I might change my mind.”

Whining, Peter forces himself to let go of his dick so he wouldn’t accidentally climax regardless, but Tony has different plans. “I don’t think I told you to stop,” he growls and puts Peter’s hand back to where it was, keeping his own fingers wrapped around it tightly when he moves it up and down, eliciting a gasp from Peter’s lips. “I’m waiting.”

After everything that has already happened, Peter didn’t think Tony would find even more ways to humiliate him. “I-I…I like it when you…when you…touch me.”

“How much? _”_

Peter arches his back and whimpers, knowing he’d have to get a move on. “A lot, sir.”

“What do you like most? And be careful what you’re saying, slut.”

 _Guess that rules out saying ‘when it’s over’..._ “W-When you… take me i-in your mouth, s-sir.”

“Mmh, I figured. Do you like it when I make you moan and cry out like a little girl?”

Peter’s too far gone to give a shit anymore. “Y-Yeah, ohmygod can I _please_ cum, s-sir?”

“Not yet… tell me what else you like….”

“I-I don’t- … F-Fuck, I-I like it whenyoujerkmeoff, _please_ , sir, pleaselemmecum!”

“Fuck, you’re such a dirty little whore, kid. You can cum.”

Relief washes over him when Peter ejaculates, shooting his load over his stomach, the sheets and both his and Tony’s hand. Needless to say that he’s ordered to lick it clean afterwards.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Tony whispers in his ear after he’s done, stirring Peter’s wrath. Why does the word _good_ trigger him so much? “But now, I want you to jerk _me_ off and whisper some sweet things into _my_ ear. I want you to tell me _exactly_ what you want me to do to you next time.”

It’s too much. Sobbing once more, Peter loses his inhibitions and starts to plead. “P-Please, sir, d-don’t make me do this, I-I want to be…to be _good_ but I can’t- I can’t-“

“Are you denying me, slut? Do I really have to _take_ what I want and lock you into the chest freezer for the rest of the night?”

“N-No, I want to-to please you, but w-without the talking, please!”

“You already told me what you liked, how hard is it to go into the details and describe it to me? Unless you were lying and pretending again, of course…”

Although they clearly both know that Peter has been pretending, the boy still denies it. “N-No, I haven’t-“

“Then make me _believe_ it. Start.”

It’s obvious that Tony only wants to hear him say these things to get into Peter’s head and eventually make him believe it _himself_ , but he has no choice. He just… has to obey and get it over with and remember that he’s _forced_ to do it.

Reluctant and greatly humiliated, Peter rolls around and starts to jerk Tony off. He tries to remember what ~~he~~ his despicable body ‘likes’ and tries to describe it as detailed as possible, speaking mostly about Tony’s tongue and hands on his dick and balls. Obviously, Tony wants him to talk about the fingerfucking as well, but Peter only brings himself to speak about his prostate getting stimulated, leaving out the whole ‘thrusting’ part.

When it’s over, Peter sighs in relief and licks his fingers clean once more before turning around with the intention of crying himself to sleep. He almost wished Tony would have fucked him instead of forcing him to do _this_ , because although it would have physically hurt more, it wouldn’t have been so humiliating.

He flinches when he feels Tony’s fingers on his cheek, but for once, they are not hurting him. Instead, they caress his tear-stained skin, slowly and gently. “You know, I can make you feel good and happy, _Peter_. I wouldn’t have to hurt or humiliate you, if you just… ultimately and wholeheartedly accepted your place in the world. Believe it or not, I _can_ be nice. My friends out there… those people are my family. Most of them would die for me just like I would die for them. It’s your decision whether you want to cry yourself to sleep every day for the rest of your life or if you want to make the best out of it and enjoy whatever I am willing to give you.”

With that, Tony takes the hand away and turns around. His words roar through Peter’s mind like a broken record as he desperately tries to fall asleep and escape reality. He can’t let Tony's words get to him, he can’t give himself up completely, he can’t disappoint everyone he cares about, he can’t… he can’t…

_Everything hurts. The suit Tony has made for him is damaged and there’s blood on Peter’s face, but it doesn’t matter… Nothing matters anymore. His eyes are swimming in tears when he kneels in front of Tony, trying to dismiss the severe burns on his face, arm, suit and body. “He-ey, Mr. Stark. C-Can you hear me? It’s P-Peter…“_

_Tony weakly turns his head, looking at Peter with blank eyes. “Hey…we won, sir. We won, you did it, sir, you did it…”_

_Peter breaks into tears when he realizes that Tony isn’t really seeing or hearing him anymore. He’s too far gone already… he gave his life to save the world. To save his friends and to save -_ him _. “I-I’m sorry…_ T-Tony _…”_

_Someone pulls him away from the dying man and Peter’s vision blurs. The last thing he hears is JARVIS voice stating, “Life functions critical” before his legs give in. He’s falling…falling until-_

With a start, Peter wakes up, his heart racing and his cheeks wet from crying once more. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he’s not on a battlefield, he’s not a superhero and Tony…Tony isn't a good guy and he most certainly didn’t sacrifice himself to save the world. No, he’s very much alive and so close to Peter that he can feel the man’s warm breath on his forehead, no doubt a consequence of both men turning around in their sleep, facing each other.

Although the idea of Tony dying a gruesome death isn’t upsetting in the slightest, Peter’s stupid subconscious mind seems to be so vastly overwhelmed with guilt and shame about everything that has happened during the last few days (and especially today), that it projected his tormenting thoughts into a shitty nightmare. Watching that stupid superhero movie most certainly didn’t help either.

It’s now uncomfortably hot under the blanket; the temperature and Tony steadily breathing onto his skin makes Peter feel nauseated. To his relief, the AC seems to has stopped running though, so Peter carefully lifts the blankets and skids as far away from Tony as possible before crying himself back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's up to you to decide whether the last part was just a stupid dream or a "mind-link" to Peter's alter ego in the Earth-199999 universe 😉  
> No, truth be told, I wanted to do a dream sequence to display Peter's conflicting emotions and since it's been almost exactly a year since Endgame (I will never be over it) I decided to go with this ;) (I know it's actually FRIDAY and not JARVIS in Endgame but I had to change that for obvoius reasons.)  
> Hope you liked it. Is it just me or are the Peter chapters always more depressing than the Tony ones? I mean, he's the victim so I guess that's a logical consequence?


	20. Nineteen (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gives Peter a special lesson in sex education.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** I know this won’t be for everyone, so: Multiple Forced Orgasms, Overstimulation, Vibrators.  
> Is there a reason for it? Partly. But I admit it’s also (mostly) self-indulgent smut mixed with awkward sex education? 😂 The first ~ 1k words have no smut, but feel free to skip the rest if those aren't your kinks.

Tony isn’t surprised when he finds Peter sleeping on the other side of the mattress in the morning, so close to the edge it’s astonishing he hasn’t fallen off yet. Shaking his head amusedly, he grabs his phone and checks his e-mails, grinning when his eyes fall on the very first message. _This is going to be a fun afternoon._

In joyful anticipation Tony wakes the kid up, not even bothering to ask whether he wants to be pleasured. There will be enough of that later. “Get up and prepare my breakfast.”

Peter nods curtly, mumbling a broken ‘Okay, sir’, and gets up. After taking a shower, Tony eats his ham and eggs and waits for the boy to finish his strawberry-jelly toast. “I’ll be going on a short trip later to pick up my very special order that has finally arrived. Until I return, I have some tasks for you, like changing and washing the sheets and the dirty laundry, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, these sorts of things. Before I go, however, we’ll pay Dr. Strange a short visit. He will help me inject this into you.”

He holds up the microchip, excited for Peter’s reaction. He’s not disappointed. “W-What is this, sir?”

Tony’s lips curl into a mean smirk. “A GPS tracker I developed a few years ago. Similar to those injected into dogs and cats. With this under your skin, JARVIS can display your whereabouts onto my phone in less than a second, no matter where you are. I mean, it would be a shame if a helpless little kid like you got lost on this island, wouldn’t it?”

Looking more hopeless than ever before, the boy clenches his fists, his bottom lip trembling. “That’s not all though,” Tony says insistently, “in case you ever, uhm, think it’s a good idea to _take a swim,_ JARVIS will alert me, making sure I… _rescue you_ before anything bad happens.”

Peter lets out a sob, basically confirming Tony’s assumptions. He leans forward and forces Peter to look at him by grabbing his chin. “That’s right. I won’t let you kill yourself, so I can only advise you to think about what I told you yesterday and adjust your attitude.”

To his own and also Peter’s safety, Tony makes sure to lock away all the knives and any other dangerous, sharp objects he can find before taking the boy over to Stephen. Compared to everything else Peter has had to endure so far, the injection should be rather painless, but Tony still wants to consult the former doctor to make sure the chip will be injected in the right place.

Afterwards, he brings the quietly crying boy back to the house, where he happily demonstrates the tracker’s functionality to him, careful to not zoom out too far and show him anything else apart from the island.

“See that tiny spot? That’s you. Amazing, right? I will lock you in regardless… I don’t want you roaming around the island while I’m not here. For lunch, I expect a Caesar Salad waiting for me. JARVIS will let you know when I’m on my way back. Until then, you’re allowed to drink water but nothing else, and you must not eat. Don’t try to disobey because I _will_ find out, trust me. If you need help with the washing machine, ask JARVIS to assist you. You’re free to read a book when you’re done with everything, but don’t touch my laptop or the TV.”

For the flight to Nassau, Tony takes Rhodey with him, who has flown a water airplane before. The two old friends enjoy the short trip, glad to get away from the small island for a few hours and stroll along the busy streets of Downtown Nassau full of tourists and rich people who don’t seem to know what to spend their money on other than overpriced clothing or jewelry. It’s a shame, really.

When they get back at roughly 1 pm, Tony is pleased to find his requested lunch waiting for him as well as a cold bottle of beer. Tony’s so satisfied with the work Peter has done that he gives him some of his salad and a coke without asking for anything in return. However, as soon as he’s done washing the dishes, Tony leads him to the bedroom and tells him to get undressed.

Anxious and shivering, the boy watches Tony unpack the box he has fetched. When his eyes fall on the packed goods, he starts shaking so much that he’s forced to sit down on the mattress. “W-What is all this, s-sir?”

“What does it look like?” Tony snorts and puts the last two items onto the bed: black bondage ropes and a blindfold.

“A-Are you going to t-tie me up?”

Tony frowns when Peter starts to breathe very heavily, eyes widening in panic; he hasn’t even started yet… “What, are you worried about your hands? They are almost-”

Tony forgets what he wanted to say when out of nowhere, Peter grabs his wrist, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. His breathing resembles hyperventilation now and he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs despite his chest moving up and down rapidly. Tony wouldn’t have needed JARVIS stating that Peter is close to having an anxiety attack to know what’s going on. _Great._

“Hey, calm down, will you? There’s no need to be scared.”

He’s not sure Peter has heard him; the knuckles of the trembling hand holding onto Tony’s wrists have turned white and it’s starting to _hurt._ “JARVIS, help me, what should I do?” For the first time in ages, Tony’s completely lost; he vaguely remembers his father smacking him across the face when he had been on the verge of an anxiety attack once, which hadn’t helped _at all._

“I suggest using a breathing technique, boss.”

Before Tony can inquire about it, Peter chokes out a ‘Yes’ and nods frantically, almost as if he knew what JARVIS referred to. “Um, so, you know what to do?” It takes a few seconds but then the boy nods again, already taking long, deep breaths. “All right kid, I’ll give you ten minutes to calm down. Ask JARVIS for help if you need any."

Tony yanks his wrist out of Peter’s tight grip and leaves the room, anxious to escape the awkward situation. Why has he snapped now, after everything Tony has already put him through? _The rope and the blindfold_... It seems as if tying him up in the yacht’s engine room for four days has had quite affect after all.

Problem is, Tony needs the rope for today’s lesson. For a second, the man considers postponing it to another day, but then he remembers that he’s not supposed to give a single shit about Peter’s well-being. He has waited for so long already; the boy will have to get over it. If he doesn’t and freaks out again, Tony can always smack him unconscious to prevent any further problems. No big deal.

After ten minutes, Tony goes back into the bedroom, pleased to find Peter crying, but breathing normally. To his surprise, the boy instantly drops onto his knees. “S-Sir, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean- P-Please don’t punish me, sir.”

Tony’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk. _He has really come far._ “I accept your apology. However, we’re still going to do what we came here to do, which means, I will tie you up now. I promise to untie you as soon as we’re done, okay? And it’s completely up to you how long it takes.”

“W-What does that mean?”

“You’ll see. Now lie down in the middle of the mattress and put out your hands or I’ll _make_ you.”

Very reluctantly, Peter lies down, holds out his left hand and lets Tony wrap the rope around his wrist. His breathing becomes more rapid again, but not to a point where it would be alarming.

The man then stretches the teen’s arm and fixes the end of the rope to the slatted frame underneath the mattress. After making sure it’s tight enough, he does the same with Peter’s other hand, stretching him out in both directions. Then, he wraps more rope around each of his ankles and thighs, just inches above the knee. The boy whimpers when Tony connects his thighs to the corners of the headboard and his ankles to the corners of the floorboard, forcefully spreading his bent legs once more.

“I-It hurts, please, sir, it’s s-so tight,” Peter begs, tears running from the corners of his eyes.

“Do you want me to gag you?” As expected, the teen desperately shakes his head. “Then shut up and listen. I will train you into becoming a better slut today by teaching you how to orgasm without any kind of stimulation to your dick. You will see that a prostate orgasm is a lot more intense and that it lasts longer than a penile one, which is what a ‘normal’ orgasm is called. You’ll feel more pleasure than ever.”

“W-Why do you have to tie me up, then?”

“Because it’s not easy to learn how to orgasm like this. But look at the positive aspect: in the future, it will help you cum on my dick and prove to me what a needy little slut you are.” Tony smirks, taking in the horrified expression on Peter’s face. “Today, we’re going to use toys, though. Trust me, I’d like to fuck you until you cum, but I’m afraid I don’t have the stamina for it. And I doubt you want me to call over the others and ask them for assistance.”

Desperately, Peter shakes his head, spilling even more tears. “Thought so. Also, we’re going to start with the easier and _painless_ way, which is why I’ll be using an vibrating plug for constant stimulation instead of a fucking machine.”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face when Peter pales as soon as he hears the word _‘_ fucking machine’. His complexion turns even whiter when Tony eventually climbs over the footboard to sit between his legs, showing him the expensive curved plug. Amusedly, he watches Peter giving a useless tug at the ropes around his wrists before letting his head fall back, closing his eyes in defeat and trying to breathe slowly and calmly. The boy flinches when Tony smears lube around his rim before pushing one, then two fingers in. The man gives him a little time to adjust before pulling out and pushing the slightly thicker plug in instead.

“Ssh, it’s going to feel really good in a few moments,” Tony soothes when Peter whimpers, only to scold himself a second later. _Stop. with. the. comforting. at. last._

Angry with himself, Tony shoves it further in before turning it on with the remote, causing Peter to jerk in obvious distress and surprise. Unfazed, Tony moves it around and tries a few settings regarding the flexible head until Peter gasps, his body jerking again, albeit more violently. The man chuckles and pushes it all the way in, eliciting a silent whimper from the boy. “Does it feel good?”

Peter looks rather conflicted. “I-I’m not sure, sir.”

“It’s normal that it feels a little weird at first but once you get over it, it will feel _really_ good.” Without warning, he increases the intensity of the vibrations and Peter gasps again, his face distorted in distress _and_ pleasure now. His dick twitches and with great satisfaction, Tony watches as it slowly hardens. Soon, Peter is leaking pre-cum and he’s breathing more heavily, even moaning quietly every now and then. It’s so hot Tony feels obliged to take out his own dick and stroke it slowly.

After about ten minutes, Peter starts to squirm as much as the bonds allow. His cock has been leaking so much pre-cum that his lower stomach is glistening and Tony can tell that he’d blow in seconds if he touched him. Eventually, the boy dares to speak up, his face red with embarrassment, his voice shivering with pleasure and _need_. “S-Sir, I- I-…I really need to cum, please.”

“Then cum.”

“I- I don’t think I can without…without you touching me.”

“Well, you have no other choice. Stop thinking about your dick and concentrate on what you’re feeling inside of you. Did you know that orgasm and ejaculation are two totally different processes? Unfortunately, most men will never be able to experience a non-ejaculatory orgasm, either because they don’t even know about it or are not persistent enough in trying to achieve it. I mean… it can be tiring, but you’re lucky - I don’t care how long it takes or how uncomfortable you are. You’ll stay in this position until you give in.”

“B-But I-“ Peter starts, but Tony cuts him off. “No _buts_. I know you feel like you’re going to have to piss but you don’t have to, trust me. Just relax and let go.”

Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t seem to be able to. After fifteen more minutes, he’s a sobbing mess and for the first time ever, silently begs Tony to touch him, keening when the man declines _._

“No. The smallest friction would be enough to make you ejaculate, which – trust me – you don’t want at this point since I doubt you want to deal with your refractory period and the overstimulation that comes with it. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten our fun little game in the office, have you?”

“N-No, sir,” Peter whines, once more squirming desperately.

“Then relax and concentrate… Actually, I will put the blindfold over your eyes now, so don’t freak out again. It will help you.” Tony grabs the satin blindfold and moves to slip it over Peter’s eyes; fortunately, the boy stays somewhat calm, earning himself a praise. “Good boy. Now stop whining and focus.”

Tony then continues to stroke himself, climaxing just two minutes later. By then, pearls of sweat have started to drip from Peter’s forehead and he’s panting so heavily Tony’s afraid he might start to hyperventilate again. But then, the boy chokes out, “S-S-Sir, I- I think- I think I’m- F-F-FUCK!”

He keens when his body starts to shake and spasm uncontrollably, completely overwhelmed by the sensation setting his veins on fire. Tony smirks when a vast amount of milky-white prostatic fluid squirts out of Peter’s dick seconds later and takes the blindfold off.

“Fuck, slut, you’ve done so great. It did feel amazing, didn’t it?” Peter doesn’t seem able to answer, but the look on his face is answer enough. “I think you can do another.” Panting, the boy shakes his head, but Tony only tsks.

“You can. Now that you know how it works, it won’t take that long for you to orgasm again. You’ll see that you will hardly feel overstimulated, at least not so fast. I once read about a man who’s had up to 30 orgasms in a single one-hour session until he was too exhausted to continue, doesn’t that sound amazing?”

Again, Peter shakes his head, only to cry out in pleasure when Tony sets the intensity level to seven out of ten and lets the head rotate a little. “One day it will, trust me. For today, let’s make a deal though… If you cum three more times in the next twenty minutes I will touch your dick and let you ejaculate to ease the pressure in your balls. How does that sound?”

“A-And I if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll leave you like this until you’ve passed out.”

Sobbing, the boy agrees. In return, Tony sets the level to eight, smirking when Peter starts moaning unbridled rather fast. His tightly bound legs give a faint, useless twitch but there’s really nothing for Peter to do other than take it. After five minutes, the second powerful orgasm is ripped from him and now he’s really seemed to get a hang of it because the third one comes shortly after.

For the fourth, Tony gets between his legs again. He disables the rotary function but leaves the vibrations on before slowly pulling the plug out a few inches. When Peter whines, the man doesn't even know whether it’s a sound of relief or protest, but a second later, he thrusts it back in and starts to carefully fuck Peter with it. Every thrust has the teen cry out in overwhelming pleasure and although it takes him a little longer to get used to the new feeling, he eventually cums again, arching his back as much as he can in the position he’s in.

“See, I knew you could do it. You’ve done so well,” Tony smiles and leans forward, moving his hand close to Peter’s dick. “You really earned yourself another reward.”

Without stopping the vibrations, he warps his fingers around the boy’s throbbing cock. It takes maybe ten seconds until he _explodes_. Thanks to the constant prostate stimulation, he’s shooting out more cum than ever before, and Tony makes sure to milk every last drop out of him before he lets go. He chuckles nastily when Peter squirms, the vibrator still pressing against his prostate. “S-S-Sir, can you p-please turn it off now?”

“Uuum…no. I want to make sure you remember what _real_ overstimulation feels like and how much worse it is. However, thanks to our fun office session we already know you can be forced to multiple penile orgasms as well, don’t we?”

With that, Tony grabs a toy that resembles a vibrating cock ring but is meant to be wrapped around the head. After he's made sure that it's tightly secured to the sensitive tip of Peter’s softening dick and won't fall off, he turns it on. The boy cries out, writhing in the bonds he can’t escape, causing Tony’s dick to twitch once more. “Please stop, sir, please, I can’t take it, it’s too much, please… _please!”_

“You _can_ take it, you’ve already proven it to me before. You just have to endure the unpleasantness that comes with the refractory period… Soon enough, you’ll be able to get it up and cum again and you know how fucking amazing that feels. Who knows, maybe you’ll even manage to have both a prostate and a penile orgasm simultaneously.”

Tony’s not sure if Peter has even heard him since he hasn’t stopped thrashing around. “Sir, please, I can’t do it, please!”

With a sigh, Tony grabs the bondage tape he’s bought and seals Peter’s lips shut, stifling his desperate pleas. Peter screams against into the gag but Tony only smirks and slips the blindfold back on, knowing it will make him feel the vibrations even more intensely.

It takes about three minutes until the boy’s dick gets hard again, and as soon as it happens, Tony turns both toys to full power, almost cuming in his pants at the sound Peter makes when he realizes he’s completely _fucked._ When he spasms and shoots out another load mere seconds later, Tony dick comes back to life, demanding attention. It twitches when the man wonders how long it will take until Peter will be completely spent and will have nothing left to squirt out. He has already seen him being able to do three before, with the third one being almost completely dry back then.

The boy’s whole body is now glistening with sweat and seeing him desperately tugging at the ropes again as soon as the waves of his orgasm have ebbed away is as arousing as it is _painful_. Although Tony’s convinced that Peter’s way too distracted to have another anxiety attack, he still quietly commands JARVIS to alert him if anything happens. Then, to make sure Peter can hear him, Tony raises his voice. “Hey, I just remembered there’s something I need to take care of…I think I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Have fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out so fucking long 🙈 I swear I’ll go back to the plot next chapter 😅😅 I actually did some detailed research about all of this since this it is about Tony “training” Peter. I didn’t want to ignore the differences like it's done in most fics (which is **completely** fine, after all, it’s SMUT) and get some facts and explanations in. But yeah, I’m not claiming this is completely realistic; I don't have a prostate, which is why I will never experience what this would actually feel like ;)


	21. Twenty (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has an informative chat with JARVIS; the Avengers receive some disturbing news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Short summary if you skipped the smut in the last chapter: Tony taught Peter how to "cum untouched" and overstimulating him._ I didn't want to include more smut at first, but I had requests about Peter's POV which is why I added a short 'bonus' <3 You are all lovely <3  
> \--  
> Also, thank you muse_of_gods who for letting me use the phrase “crushing the last shimmer of hope” in this (I really struggle with the English language sometimes...)

_(Bonus)_

Peter doesn’t know how long it takes until his dick eventually gets hard once more; he only knows that his groin is burning and itching, and he wants it to stop more than anything. It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour...he has lost any sense of time. And yet, after enduring the _pain_ and discomfort long enough, it even starts to feel good again. Despite the pressure building up in his groin, Peter tries to hold back from giving in, knowing it would only leave him feel horribly overstimulated once more.

Unfortunately, he can’t keep his body from climaxing for too long. For a few blissful seconds Peter stops to breathe and forgets everything around him when another orgasm is ripped from him, letting himself be engulfed by the pleasure spreading through every inch of his trembling, jerking body. It doesn’t feel as good anymore as before, mainly because Peter has nothing left to give, but it’s still enough to escape reality for a short moment.

Somehow, he hopes that Tony has been shitting him, that he’s still here, willing to show mercy on him and turn the toys off now, but nothing happens. In despair, Peter makes another attempt to break out of the ropes restraining him, but it’s hopeless; he’ll have to take it and endure it for as long as Tony wants.

* * *

When the vibrations pleasuring and tormenting his body eventually stop, Peter has no idea often he came. He remembers having at least one – or two? – orgasms after Tony left the room before his mind went somewhat blank, giving him a hard time to form any more coherent thoughts. From afar, he realizes that the blindfold and tape come off and that the toys are removed. Although he’s not passed out per se, Peter seems to somehow drift in and out of consciousness because suddenly, the ropes are gone too and he’s lifted off the bed, his head resting against a clothed chest.

Unable to do anything else than whimper feebly, Peter keeps his eyes closed, allowing himself to drift off again-

Only to be brought back to life with a high-pitched shriek when his body hits water. He opens his eyelids and squints against the light, recognizing the bathroom tiles and Tony’s body leaning over him, apparently kneeling in front of the tub.

“Are you back with me?” the man asks, lips formed into a smug smile. Peter isn’t capable of answering, causing Tony to chuckle. “Guess not. Well, take your time but try not to fall asleep and drown. JARVIS, keep an eye on him.”

“I will, boss.”

Tony exits the bathroom and slowly, very slowly, Peter starts to _feel_ again. Every inch of his body is exhausted and aching, and although the pleasantly warm water eases his tense muscles a little bit, he’s still trembling all over.

And yet… Pain, embarrassment, and overexertion aside, Peter hates to admit that Tony has been somewhat right. The prostate orgasms have felt amazing, there’s no point denying it, but getting there has been so utterly exhausting and tormenting and just _too much_ that Peter doesn’t deem it worthy. He most certainly never wants to go through it ever again.

To his misfortune, Tony has other plans. “You've done so well,” he praises when he helps Peter out of the tub half an hour later. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually manage to have a prostate orgasm during the first lesson, but you surprised me. Makes me somewhat proud, kid. Looking forward to the next round.”

“N-Next round?”

“Yeah. We’re going to do this every other day from now on.”

“W-Why?” Peter squeaks, flinching when Tony roughly rubs over the wound on his left upper arm. It’s the spot where Strange injected the microchip into him, crushing the last shimmer of hope that he had about escaping.

“Because it’s hot watching you squirm, that’s why. And because I want you to get used to the feeling and cum on my dick without me having to bother about jerking you off. However, if you ask me nicely and behave, I won’t make you have more than one penile orgasm so you won’t feel so overstimulated. Deal?”

“O-Okay, sir.”

Tony smiles in light of Peter’s lack of resistance, and for once, it doesn’t even look all that threatening. Almost gently, he clasps Peter’s wrist and brushes over the fresh rope burns, pausing when the boy flinches. “Does it hurt?”

 _Duh._ “Yes, sir.”

For a moment, Tony seems to ponder about something. Eventually, he opens the medicine cabinet and before Peter knows it, a soothing ointment is applied onto the dark red marks on his wrists, thighs and ankles, causing him to gape in confusion. Since when has Tony ever cared about him feeling pain?

Afterwards, Peter’s gently shoved out of the bath, still wrapped in a towel, and led over to the couch. Tony has barely finished saying that he can nap until dinner when Peter falls asleep, too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

A while later, Peter wakes up with the desperate need to use the toilet, finding the house empty. Judging by the outside light, dusk is falling, meaning he should probably start cooking soon. Despite his legs still being horribly weak from the exhaustion earlier, Peter forces himself to walk around the kitchen, looking for any possible notes Tony have left him stating what he wanted to eat. When he doesn’t find anything, Peter decides to gather his courage and ask JARVIS. “Uhm…Mr. J-Jarvis, sir?”

Although he’s expected it, the boy still jumps when the A.I. answers him immediately. “Yes, Peter? Good to see you’re feeling better again.”

Right, the anxiety attack… Thinking about it makes Peter blush. Dealing with it in the chest a few nights ago was one thing, but having one right in front of his rapist is more than embarrassing. At least Tony didn’t punish him for it and even told JARVIS to help him calm down. Now that he’s thinking of it… Tony has been acting a little different altogether today… almost somewhat kind, at times.

_Uhm, no. He raped and tortured you, dumbass, just like he always does.  
_

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. A-Also…for helping me.”

“Anytime, Peter. What do you need?”

“Oh yeah, uhm, is there… do you know what Mr. Stark wants me to cock? He hasn’t left me any instructions.”

“Unfortunately, I have no idea. Do you want me to call him?”

“N-No, I- Wait, do you think he would expect me to call him?” A second later, Peter rolls his eyes at himself; has he just asked an artificial intelligence what it’s _thinking_?

“I would say that there’s a possibility of 87 percent that he wouldn’t expect you to call him. At least it’s not part of my ICE protocol.”

 _Oh. That’s impressive._ “Your ICE protocol? As in ‘In Case of Emergency’?”

“That’s correct.”

Although Peter’s tempted to inquire about it, he knows better. “Hm. All right… I guess I’ll wait, then. Uhm, thanks, Mr. Jarvis.”

“You can call me JARVIS, Peter.”

“O-Okay, uhm, thank you, Jarvis, si-…I mean, JARVIS.” It might be stupid and sad, but Peter can’t help smiling. Apart from Mrs. Romanoff – _Nat_ – JARVIS nobody else has been nice to him, and although JARVIS technically isn’t a person Peter remembers something. “JARVIS, you mentioned being named after someone, right?”

“Yes, Peter. I am named after Edwin Jarvis.”

“Who is he?”

“He _was_ long-time butler to Mr. Stark and his parents.”

Tony named his A.I. after a _butler_? Considering the man’s fondness for puns, it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise though. “Let me guess: he named you after his butler because you _serve_ him?”

“I do serve him, albeit in a completely different way than Edwin Jarvis. After all, bringing him wine and dainties would require me to have arms and legs, don’t you think?”

“… What?”

“Oh… I tried to make a joke, but since I can't see you laughing, I’m afraid I wasn’t successful. You see, Mr. Stark has programmed me to be quite sarcastic because Mr. Edwin Jarvis was too, but sometimes it’s a little hard for me to understand the difference.”

A _sarcastic_ A.I. trying to make jokes. Even though thinking about Ned hurts so, so much, Peter can’t help smiling when he imagines the look on his friend’s face if he knew about it. Although…Ned would most likely stop being impressed the second he found out that it was Tony who invented and programmed him. Thing is, as much as Peter wants to feel the same way, he can’t. JARVIS is the most impressive thing he has ever seen, and maybe, just maybe, it – _he?_ – could be of use someday. Moreover, finding out more about his captor doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing… right?

“Okay, but … why does he want you to have _personality traits_ of his old butler?”

“From what I know, Mr. Jarvis raised Mr. Stark.”

“Are you’re saying that he had some kind of affection for him?”

“He most certainly had. I think he was like a father to him.”

Peter huffs, thinking back to Tony admitting that he killed his father. Although JARVIS might be able to provide him with more information about it, Peter surely hasn’t forgotten Tony’s threat if he ever mentioned his family again and decides it’s better not to risk asking any more questions and stirring the man’s wrath if he found out about it. That means, if he’s not already going to get punished for inquiring about Edwin Jarvis in the first place.

And yet, knowing that Tony cared enough for his father’s butler to name his A.I. after him (not to mention programming it to have his personality traits) makes him feel a little conflicted. It’s a nice gesture, no doubt, but… it’s _Tony_. He’s not supposed to do anything _nice_. 

Speaking of the devil; the man comes back half an hour later and seeing that Peter’s awake again, he tells him to get dressed and follow him outside. Confused, obeys. It's pleasantly warm when he staggers out of the house.

“Can you walk?”

“Uhm, y-yeah, I think, if it’s not too far.”

“We’re just going over to the fire pit.”

Peter’s stomach clenches in fear, thinking back at the spanking Tony put him through a few days ago. To his greatest astonishment though, it’s not just Tony’s group of asshole friends sitting around at the table next to the fireplace this time, but everyone else as well. Not knowing if he should be relieved or even more terrified about it, he plops down onto the chair Tony assigns him.

Everyone stares at Peter, apparently as confused about him being here as he’s himself. Natasha flashes him a cautious smile at first, but then frowns when she notices the fresh rope burns on Peter’s wrists. Embarrassed, the boy quickly puts his hands under table and blushes deeply, horribly intimidated by everyone looking at him like that.

“Need any help with the grill?” Tony breaks the awkward silence and glances at the Odinson brothers, who quickly shake their heads and busy themselves with the food again.

Natasha has narrowed her eyes to slits, glaring at Tony suspiciously. “What is he doing here?”

“I thought I’d give it a try and let him eat with us. Only if he wants to, of course.” He flashes Peter a somewhat mean smile, who starts to get a feeling what this is all about. No matter how hungry he is, he won’t drop on his knees in front of everyone…in front of _Natasha_. Not if he gets to have a choice.

“I-I’m not hungry, sir,” he lies, shuttering when Tony tsks. “You don’t have to decide just yet. It will take a few more minutes.”

“Tony, I’m warning you, if you force him to do anything nasty, then-“

“I won’t _force_ him to do anything, Nat. The kid knows the rules. It will be his choice alone whether he _wants_ to do something or not.”

“By letting him starve him unless he plays your disgusting games?”

“Rest assured that I won’t starve him. Now, please do me a favor and _get off my ass_. Personal aversions aside, it’s really not your business what I do with my things and how I treat them.”

Natasha reacts by letting her fist drop onto the table with a loud WHUM. She looks furious, causing Peter’s heart to skip a beat. Why does a woman, who has killed so many innocent people in her life, care about his well-being so much? “Tony, I swear to god, I will-“

“ _Natalia,_ ” Bruce interrupts from the head of the table, his voice soft but determined. “Just leave it be, please. Same goes for you, Tony. We’ve talked about this, and I kindly request you to stick to our agreement.”

“I am sticking to our agreement. As I said, I won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do in front of you, and I most certainly won’t hurt him either. I swear.”

Nat champs with rage but meets Bruce’s request and stays silent. Obviously pleased, Tony grins and points at the black man sitting directly in front of him and Peter. “That reminds me, I haven’t introduced Rhodey yet, have I?”

Peter barely dares to look up. Rhodey doesn’t seem overly friendly, but he’s not glaring at him either; in fact, he seems rather neutral. However, when Tony reveals that he’s _Pennsylvania_ , Peter can’t help shivering, thinking back to how the man dragged him upstairs during the first night of the heist before tying him to the radiator pipe. “And to his right, we have Wanda or, as you’ve come to know her, _Sokovia_.”

She’s a pretty woman, probably a little younger than Natasha, who’s to her right. Just like Rhodey, she doesn’t seem hostile, albeit a bit annoyed.

The only other person Peter hasn’t been introduced to before is a guy sitting between Sam and Clint called _Scott_. Very vaguely Peter remembers seeing him on the yacht, wondering if he’s the guy bringing Tony the canola oil he had used as lube. Although Scott’s sitting with the asshole group, he actually flashes him a brief, genuine-looking smile.

“Yeah, that’s it, basically,” Tony concludes. “Oh, and Danvers and Quill, but they have left a few days ago with T’Challa and Shuri to go back to their jobs.”

“That reminds me, I think I’m also going to head back soon,” Scott says with a sigh. “As beautiful as this place is, I don’t want Cassie to grow up without a dad.”

This guy is a _father_ … Peter shutters again. It’s unbelievably hard to think of the Avengers as anything else than heartless assholes, incapable of any human emotions or caring about anyone else than themselves.

A few moments later, Thor and Loki put the first barbeque plate down on the table. Peter struggles to keep himself from drooling when his mouth waters instantly at the sight.

“Doesn’t it smell delicious?” Tony whispers into his ear, resting his right hand on the boy’s thigh.

“I-It does, sir, but I’m not hungry.” However, Peter’s forced to blush in embarrassment when his stupid stomach decides to rumble loudly at that precise moment.

“What if I offered you some of it without asking for anything in return?”

Peter’s gut instinct tells him not to trust the older man. He’s learned that Tony always chooses his words carefully. Conditional type 2 means that it’s very unlikely he _will_ actually offer him food without demanding anything in return. There are rules, after all, and Peter would rather eat toast or stay hungry than voluntarily suck Tony’s dick in front of the others. He has a choice, and he decides to not give in and take the risk. “I _would_ still not want anything then, sir.”

Even though Tony’s eyes narrow to slits, he seems to accept his defeat. However, Peter’s supposed triumph is short lived; when the others start to eat, forcing him to sit there and watch, he starts to question who the real winner is.

After twenty agonizing minutes, the ringing of Loki’s phone catches Peter’s attention. The Avengers protest when Loki makes a move to answer it, but he shrugs it off. “It’s Quill, I’ll make it quick… Hey, man. Let me tell you, you’re missing one hell of a barbe-… Wait, what?”

The man seems alarmed, causing everyone to fall silent. After about a minute, Loki eventually speaks again. “You sure? … Mhm, all right, thank you… Yes, I’ll tell them… Hang in there, bye.”

“What is it? Did something happen?” Thor asks impatiently.

“Well… Not really, but… The FBI just had a press conference and they…”

“Do they know anything?” Bruce interrupts, looking deeply concerned.

“Not yet, but…”

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” Tony spits, causing Loki to roll his eyes with irritation. “How about you _let me finish_? They don’t seem to know anything _yet_ , but they just… offered immunity and five million bucks to any Avenger telling them who _Manhattan_ is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any presumptions what's up with that and if someone will rat Tony out (and if yes, who? 👀) In case you think that the FBI's offer doesn't make any sense: it will be thoroughly discussed in the next chapter ;)  
> This leads me to: Please keep in mind that this is as a work of fiction and I don't claim that everything is 100 % realistic. I know there are no GPS trackers you can inject in people but I still wrote it because I didn't want to include a collar or bracelet or whatever. Same with the rape broadcast: it might not be able in real life but it served the story. It made Peter's ordeal even more terrifying and devastating, which is why I chose to do it.


	22. Twenty-One (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another press conference pushes Tony over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve given up trying to make these chapters around 2k words. This is almost 4k DEAL WITH IT 😂😂 I barely got this done though and then I almost didn't want to upload because many people are still not receiving notifications after AO3 did some changes but well. Here it is.  
>  **Warnings:** There’s some violence in it that some might find harder to read than the usual shit I write.

For a few moments, Tony isn’t able to think. His friends are all staring at him, looking completely baffled and distraught. Next to him, Peter lets out a faint whimper, but Tony can’t bother about him too right now. “Give me your phone,” he snaps at Loki, who hands it over immediately. He opens the browser and types ‘cnn.com’ into the search bar, cursing loudly when his eyes focus on the first headline.

“What, is it true?” Bruce asks, leaning over.

“Yes. Five million and immunity for my name. Every day that passes, the bounty will decrease by a million.”

Tony doesn’t pay any attention to the heated debate that sparks at that and reads through the rest of the short article calmly and precisely. _Don’t panic. Think._

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he eventually says in a raised voice, causing the other Avengers to fall silent and stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Why would they make such a generous offer just to learn my name and not everyone else’s too?”

“Because you’re the first asshole to broadcast the rape of a teenager on television?” Natasha spits, eyeing him with disgust. “Karma is a bitch, Tony.”

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t they ask for his safe return then? Or subject the reward to the condition that I get arrested at least?”

The others frown, clearly recognizing that he has a point. “Maybe they assume we’re hiding at the same location?” Bruce suggests after a short pause. “They might think we’d be more hesitant to tell them _where_ you are rather than _who_ you are because it would increase the risk of getting caught ourselves?”

“They offered the traitor immunity though,” Steve points out, causing Bucky to object, “ _Only_ the traitor, you mean. They gotta assume that at least some of us are friends, so-”

“I’m telling you, this doesn’t make any sense,” Tony asserts forcefully. “Even if they knew that _I_ am the one who killed the hostages, it wouldn’t change the fact that each and every one of us has committed a shit ton of crimes, even those who haven’t been in there with us. First of all, it barely makes a legal difference if you’re charged with murder and rape in the first degree or _criminal facilitation_ in the first degree. Secondly, we are all guilty of holding 57 people hostage over the course of four days and illegally printing more than one billion dollars.”

“Your point is?” Wanda asks, raising her eyebrows, “Carol has always said that we should expect something like this.”

“Wrong, Wanda. Just like everyone else on this planet, you fail to pay close attention. She suspected that they would offer god-knows-what in exchange for _everyone else’s_ _arrest_. Which would make sense. But trust me, they won’t grant anyone immunity or amnesty for nothing more than my fucking name.”

Rhodey sighs. “It could also be a trap, couldn’t it? I’ve seen similar tactics in military operations. They’re tempting us to come forward, only to arrest whoever does and demand more information in exchange for the reward.”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they aren’t that stupid to think that _we_ are that stupid. It seems likely they want to play mind games to drive a wedge between us. At least that’s what I would do. Well… it is what it is. There’s no need to worry about it, not for you, not for me. I trust you one hundred percent. _All_ of you.” Tony’s eyes settle on Natasha and Loki, who looks at him indifferently. “Now, I’m rather tired so… good night.”

He motions to Peter to get up and follow him. Polite as he is, the boy mutters a hasty ‘good night’ as well before following Tony back to their house. To make sure Peter eats enough, Tony sits down at the table with him and watches him gulp down the dry bread. In the bright light of the kitchen he can’t help noticing how oddly devastated the boy seems to appear. Up close, he looks even more hopeless now than when Tony injected the tracking chip into him.

“What’s your take on it?” the man eventually asks. “Why do you think they made such a generous offer for nothing more than my name? Why not demand your safe return back home?”

Peter’s gaze is fixed on the table. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Come on, you’re a smart kid, you gotta have a theory. I mean, even if there’s not a single soul on this planet who gives any shit about you, the FBI normally still tries to rescue kidnap victims. Especially children. So why do you think they don’t?”

A single tear drops from Peter’s right eye. “M-Maybe they think that I’m dead.”

“Nah. It’s only been two weeks and there’s no indication that I’ve killed you already.”

“Well, then… just like you said, they might want to- to unsettle you and turn you against one another.”

“They should know that nobody would fall for it though. The offered deal is way too unreasonable.”

“Then they are either inept or know more than you think.”

Tony snorts at that. “Oh yeah? You know what’s weird, though? You look way more devastated about this than all of us together. Aren’t you happy they’re doing _something_ at last?” Sneering, Tony leans closer. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown so fond of me that you’re worrying about my safety all of a sudden… Because I don’t buy it.”

The boy swallows thickly. “I- I… I g-guess if they have to ask for your name, then they c-clearly don’t have any idea who you o-or the others are.”

“Mhm.” It still doesn’t make sense that he looks that crestfallen; somehow, Tony doubts that Peter has been naïve enough to believe in a miracle or highly improbable rescue, but who knows. _Who cares._ “Eat up.”

Tony spends the rest of the evening looking up any information he can find about the FBI press conference. There’s not a lot, reassuring him that the whole deal is a desperate, foolish trick to spread doubt and mistrust between the Avengers. In the meantime, Peter sits on the couch with bent knees, staring off into space, sniffling every once in a while.

Eventually, Tony shuts off his laptop and walks over to couch as well. He yanks the pants from the boy’s slender hips before manhandling him onto his stomach, growling dangerously when Peter lets out a distressed yelp.

“What? Didn’t expect to get fucked today, huh? It pains me to see that you don’t want to grant me something nice after I let you have so many orgasms today. You’re really selfish, you know that?”

“No, please, it’s just- C-Can you please be… c-careful, sir?”

“ _Careful?_ Who the fuck do you think I am, your boyfriend?” Furiously, Tony grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair, tilting his head back.

“N-No, you’re my…my…” Peter lets out a broken sob. “My owner, sir. My m-master.”

“U-huh. So why in god’s name do you think you can tell me what to do, then?”

“I didn’t _tell_ you, sir, I would n-never. I _a-asked_ because… because you said you want me to learn how to … c-cum on your d-dick and… If it hurts, it won’t w-work I think.”

A week ago, Tony might have reacted to Peter’s obvious lie by being even more brutal and aggressive in return, but – truthful or not – the boy has a point. Being a little more careful couldn’t hurt in regard to Stockholm Syndrome. “All right… You know what? Since you’ve been so good earlier, I can… try to make it less painful, but my needs will always come before yours, do you understand?”

“Of course, sir. Th-Thank you.”

“Just relax, that’s the key point. Also, you’re already stretched from the lesson so it will be easier, you’ll see.”

Although Tony does waste a few minutes on preparing the boy, Peter still gasps in pain when Tony eventually lines his dick up and pushes forward in one go. It was to be expected, but at least he stays mostly still and lets Tony use his body without showing any real resistance.

Since the man has already orgasmed twice that day, he fucks Peter longer than usual, but although he even seems to hit the boy’s prostate every other thrust, it’s not enough to make him cum. It’s not surprising in the slightest, and yet Tony can’t help being a little disappointed.

Peter’s dick is hard when Tony has finished, showing that his body _has_ gotten pleasure out of it after all. However, the friction caused by the cushion of the sofa probably helped too. “Guess I’ll have to give you some extra lessons, don’t I?” Tony grins meanly. “Anyways, don’t expect you’ll get to cum now.”

To his misfortune, Peter doesn’t seem to mind all that much. Granted, Tony has put him through a lot today, so it shouldn’t be surprising that the boy doesn’t want to get his thigh sliced on top of that.

Since Tony doesn’t feel like having Peter close to him again, they spend the night in separate blankets and with a certain distance between each other. They are awoken by a morning thunderstorm, so Tony commands Peter to get up and serve him breakfast. “Oh, and bring me my laptop… It’s the perfect weather for some Netflix and chill, don’t you think?”

Scowling, the teen does as he’s told. Tony even lets Peter join him, not realizing until a few minutes later how oddly domestic it is to have breakfast together in bed. It’s definitely not what he has intended when he took the boy, but well. Why the fuck not. It’s just breakfast.

To convince himself that it’s nothing more than that, he places the laptop between them as a barrier and keeps his distance throughout the whole Breaking Bad marathon (with the exception of fifteen or so minutes when he orders the kid to give him a blowjob).

For lunch though, Tony decides that it’s time to get up, joining Peter in the kitchen. The boy has just placed chicken and vegetables onto the counter when the door is suddenly smacked open, startling them both.

“Tony, turn to channel five, quick!” It’s Rhodey, looking thoroughly alarmed. “There’ll be another press conference, starting any second now… They- they said it’s good news.”

Tony’s stomach clenches and his heart skips a beat when he turns on the TV. He switches to channel five seconds before the Director of the FBI steps onto the podium. With a smug smile, he thanks the viewers for turning in and says that the investigation will be led from the SHIELD subunit from now on. He then introduces Nick Fury, a black, fierce looking man wearing an eyepatch. Scowling, he steps onto the podium as well and addresses the viewers.

“Despite the public outrage about the deal we offered to the criminals, we are pleased to announce that our efforts have been prosperous. It only took hours until someone came forward and gave us what we asked for. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get any up-to-date photos, but we will present you with a computer-generated composite sketch, based on a twenty-year-old mug-shot of the suspect and some basic information about his current appearance.”

The rug is pulled out from under Tony’s feet when the conference room is replaced by a computer-generate image of a man with brown hair, brown eyes and a Van Dyke goatee, looking horribly similar to Tony. No, not just _similar._ The man looking grimly into a camera lens _is_ Tony, albeit artificially altered by a computer. Ignoring Rhodey’s and Peter’s loud gasps, the man tries to breathe steadily.

“With the permission of the Department of Justice and the President of the United States himself, the Federal Bureau of Investigation offers ten million dollars and, if desired, placement in the Witness Protection Program to everyone providing us with viable information about the whereabouts of _Anthony Edward Stark_ , born May 29th, 1975. We maintain the same offer as well as immunity and amnesty to the first ‘Avenger’ who successfully helps us track down Stark and ensure the safe return of Peter Parker.”

Peter lets out a broken sob when a somewhat cute picture of him appears. Tony barely even notices it. _This is not happening. It’s not possible._

“I have one last message for the ‘Avengers.’” Fury speaks the last word with as much disgust as he can muster. “I personally guarantee you that if you fail to cooperate, we will hunt you down one by one. We will publish pictures of you every single day and will put a bounty on your head so high than not even your closest friends and family will be able to resist. You’ll never be able to go anywhere ever again for the rest of your pathetic lives without taking the risk of getting busted, so you better be quick.”

With that, Fury walks out of frame and Tony shuts the TV off. Neither him, nor Rhodey or Peter move even an inch until the door gets smacked open. Startled, they twirl around, looking at a horrified Steve, followed closely by Bucky. “Tony, have you-“

“Lock the fucking door,” Tony yells, snapping out of his shocked state. Before any of the others can even blink an eye, he has darted towards the safe and gotten his gun out. “What are you doing with this?” Rhodey asks, alarmed.

“What the fuck do you think? We have a fucking traitor amongst us, so I’m gonna-“

“Bruce is running over,” Bucky cuts in, glancing outside the window, “Bruce and Nat and- okay, basically everyone.”

“Keep them away from me,” Tony hisses with clenched teeth. “Actually… I want you out too. All of you.”

Rhodey looks at him aghast. “Tony… you can’t seriously think that anyone of us would-“

“HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE NEWS?” A rage of fury has seized hold of Tony like never before. “They fucking know who I am!”

“I know, but… it doesn’t necessarily mean that one of us ratted you out.”

“He’s right,” Steve adds, stepping closer. Instinctively, Tony points his gun at him, causing Steve to hold up his hands defensively. “Wow… easy, Tony. You need to calm down, okay?”

At the same time, Bruce yells from right outside the door, demanding entrance. It’s enough for Tony to lose his head, so he uncocks the gun and aims it right at Steve’s face. “I said get the fuck out.”

“You’re fucking nuts, man,” Bucky mumbles, hurrying towards the door. With a sorrowful expression, Steve and Rhodey follow suit, but when Peter makes a move toward the door as well, Tony points the gun at him. “Not you.”

Sobbing, the boy sinks to the floor, shaking like a leaf. Tony can hear Steve telling Bruce and whoever else waiting outside that Tony wants to be ‘left alone’. Through the gauzy curtains he can see them walking away a few seconds later, glancing back once or twice. Overcome with relief, he commands Peter to lock the door again.

The silences that follows is deafening, interrupted only by the boy’s occasional fearful whimpers. A million thoughts are running through Tony’s head and for the first time in about two decades, he feels anxiety spreading over his whole body. _Someone ratted him out… but who?_ Will someone remember seeing him in Nassau yesterday despite him wearing sunglasses? Do the feds already know that he’s here?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , _FUCK!_ ” In a fiery rage, Tony grabs as many things as he can reach - plates, glasses, books, the ugly flowerpot standing on the table – and smashes them to the floor, not giving any shit about some of them shattering into a few dozen pieces. With a terrified shriek, Peter ducks under the table to avoid getting hit by fragments, and for some weird reason, it's his scream that knocks Tony out of the skies.

_This is not helping… He needs to calm the fuck down._

Panting heavily, Tony drops down into one of the chairs, trying to regain control of his breathing. For a second, he’s tempted to ask JARVIS to tell him about the breathing techniques, but he doesn’t; he’d rather die than show such weakness in front of the kid. When feels sober enough, he takes out his phone and calls Carol. Even though she seems horribly distraught about the press conference as well, Tony knows that it could be an act. _Everyone is a suspect._ Still, he has to give it a try. “I need you to pull your strings and find out who ratted me out.”

“Fuck, Stark, I can’t- you know what’s at stake! I can’t just call him and ask who spilled the tea about you without arousing suspicion, and-“

“You either call him _right now_ or I’ll let them know every single detail about your involvement in this. You got me? It’s not like I have a lot to lose anymore; not like you, at least.”

Unfazed, he listens to Carol ranting and swearing at him. Not until after five minutes she shuts up and promises to call him back as soon as she can. “Good. Wasn’t so hard, was it? You have an hour,” Tony says icily, ending the call.

Only now Tony notices that Peter has emerged from the table, watching him warily. “What are you staring at?”

Instantly, the boy drops his gaze. “N-Nothing, sir. I didn’t mean to stare, p-please forgive me.”

“Guess you’re happy about this new turn of events after all, huh? Don’t get your hopes up too high, though. If I go down, I’ll take you down with me.”

Peter swallows thickly. “I- I know, sir.”

“Sit.”

Careful not to touch any flinders with his bare feet, the boy sits down opposite from Tony, eyes fixed on the gun in the man’s right hand. After thirty minutes, Tony can’t bear the oppressive silence any longer. “Who do you think betrayed me?”

“I- I don’t…I don’t know, sir. I b-barely know them.”

“Take a guess, then. If you end up being right, I won’t touch you for twenty-four hours. That means, if I don't have to kill you and me before that. If you’re wrong, however, I’ll fuck you right on those splinters.”

“P-Please, I don’t- I don’t know, sir.”

“ _Five seconds,”_ Tony snarls, starting a countdown. Peter’s pupils dilate in panic, and at last second, he blurts out “M-Maybe it’s a trick, sir.”

“A _trick?_ ”

“Yeah, l- I mean… this might be why they made that weird offer. Because… they already knew and tried to turn you against the others by claiming someone has ratted you out even though they didn't.”

Tony is so impressed by this train of thought that he forgets about the game. “To be honest… that doesn’t even sound too farfetched, but… even if they already knew, it would still mean that someone had talked at some point.”

“I thought you trusted them?”

“I thought so too. To be honest... I could most likely rule out those who have been with me for ages, but you never know what money and _fear_ can do to people. As crazy as it sounds, but right now, the only person I trust is you.” Tony chuckles at that, frowning when a muscle in Peter’s face twitches faintly. Before he can elaborate on it though, Carol calls him back.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. My source has no idea either, but… he confirmed that the offer was fake. They had your name already and knew it was rather unlikely someone would come forward like that."

 _So the little shit was right._ "Is this seriously all you managed to find out? Someone still talked and I want to know who."

"Yeah, I know. As I said, he doesn't know who it was either, but whoever told them about you didn’t know too much and it must have been a while ago.”

“Huh? I'm afraid I can't follow.”

“Well… They’ve been fetching data from universities, educational centers and stuff for two weeks, trying to find someone in your age range born in Manhattan named ‘Tony’ or ‘Anthony’ with an official, outstandingly high IQ record. They actually got some results, but apparently, you were the smartest of the suspects by far and… given your family background-”

“This doesn’t make any sense though,“ Tony snarls, “Apart from the Avengers, I have never spoken to anyone about-“

And then, it hit him. Completely thunderstruck, his eyes fix on the ashen-faced boy sitting across from him. And just like that, it starts to make sense why he was so devastated yesterday; he thought they had given up…that his clues had lead nowhere...

“It was you,” Tony says, ignoring Danvers’ outraged _‘Me?!’_ coming from the speaker. “You…you told your friends… in the helicopter…” _It was the only time Tony had not been with Peter._

It takes Peter a few seconds to realize that Tony is speaking to _him_ and not to Carol. “S-S-Sir?”

“It was YOU!” Blinded by rage, Tony jumps up and lunges for the kid, raising the hand holding the gun. Before Peter could have even blinked an eye, Tony has smacked him across the face with such power that he’s thrown off the chair. “You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit.” With every word, Tony kicks the defenseless body lying at his feet, evoking agonizing screams. “I-I’m sorry, s-sir, please, s-stop!”

“You’re _sorry!?”_ Tony roars, carelessly dropping his phone to pull the teen up by his hair. “Sorry doesn’t do it. You ruined everything!” Tears of anger prickle in the corners of Tony’s eyes when he hits Peter again, sending him flying backwards right into a pile of shards.

The boy cries out in anguish when the broken fragments cut into his skin. Careful not to hurt himself as well, Tony crouches down and presses Peter’s left cheek to the floor. He grinds it against a particularly large bit of broken glass, making him howl in pain. “How about I stick a few of those up your ass, huh?”

Peter has started to thrash around wildly when out of nowhere, JARVIS sounds the alarm.

A split second later, a loud scream is ripped from Tony’s throat when he feels a sudden, agonizing pain in his left thigh. He barely catches sight of Peter’s bloody fingers holding onto a sharp fragment of pottery before he’s given a powerful shove, causing Tony to fall back on his ass and bump his head at the table leg.

Dazed, Tony struggles to his feet, only to find Peter wrenching the door open and staggering out onto the porch. “Oh no you don’t”, Tony hisses and, blinded by rage, raises his right arm. Before the man realizes what he’s doing, he has already pulled the trigger three or four times.

In slow motion, it seems, he sees Peter stumbling as bullets strike him in the back. With a blood-curdling scream, the boy falls face forward onto the ground, a pool of dark crimson forming beneath his writhing body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you please be so kind and tell me if you’ve gotten an email about the update (if you're a subscriber)? Ever since AO3 announced their server changes I haven’t received any email notifications about anything; others, however, have. Therefore, I'm considering posting an “author's note” when I'm starting to get mails again to trigger a(nother) notification and make sure all subscribers will be able to see chapter 22 :/


	23. Twenty-Two (Peter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at the beginning of the chapter: I have no plot, this will be short.  
> Me after finishing the chapter: HOW TF DID THIS END UP BEING 4k ?!?!  
> \--  
> You guys completely overwhelmed me with your support and love after the last chaper. I am so unbelievably grateful for each and everyone who is reading this 💗💗💗

Pain.

White. Black.

_“SHIT!”_

_“What the fuck happened?”_

So much pain.

_“GET STRANGE, FAST!”_

He’s floating.

…

_“Hang in there, kid!”_

It’s too loud. He can't sleep like that. 

And it's cold. So cold. He needs a blanket.

...

_“Okay, he’s A positive. Refrigerator, bottom shelf. Let’s hope we have enough. Where's the fucking drain tube?”_

Train? Drain. Rain. _Pain._

Oh god, there’s so much pain.

He just wants to sleep.

* * *

Before Peter met Ned, he had only ever had one real friend. Her name was Katya, a pretty, joyful and very empathetic girl around his age living right across the house Peter had lived in with May and Ben. Katya’s parents had immigrated from Russia, and almost every time Peter came over to visit, some Russian folk music was blasting through the house, making him feel a strange kind of cheerfulness.

Therefore, Peter doesn’t doubt for a second that he’s at Katya’s house when he wakes up to the sound of a quiet Russian song. It takes him a while to realize that he’s lying on a couch in a dimly lit room that doesn’t even remotely look like he remembers it.

Disoriented, Peter tries to move, but he’s forced to stop immediately when an agonizing stabbing pain spreads from his back over his whole body; a pain unlike anything he has ever felt before.

Very slowly, some memories of what happened come back. Memories of Tony losing his shit. Of Tony grinding his face against a shard of glass. Of Tony shooting him.

_He shot him._

How in the world is he still alive?

Once more, Peter tries to move, only to cry out in pain. “Oh my god, he’s awake!” A moment later, Natasha is by his side, feeling his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

When Peter only whimpers in response, she curses. “Shit. Maybe it’s better if you get Stephen.”

“On my way,” a male voice answers, and a second later, a door falls shut. “It will soon get better,” Nat soothes. “Everything will be all right.”

Peter nods weakly, wishing to fall back asleep and escape the pain. It hurts _so much_. After an eternity, it seems, Bruce and Dr. Strange appear in Peter’s field of vision, having a quiet debate about analgesics and soporifics Peter can barely follow. Eventually, he’s engulfed by darkness once more.

When Peter wakes up for a second time, he's so thirsty he can't seem to form any coherent thoughts at first. _He needs water._ Gritting his teeth, Peter struggles to get up. Since his left arm is in a sling, it takes him a while, but when he’s eventually upright, he lifts the sweaty blanket, noticing a thin tube sticking out of his-

 _Oh my god._ Not only is he stark naked (hence for a bunch of bandages), someone has inserted a small tube into his penis. Peter’s face flushes red with shame, but just when he considers trying to take it out, the door opens and he quickly hides behind the blanket once more.

Natasha. _Bruce._ When they see he’s sitting upright, they come over immediately. “Hey,” Nat says, crouching down. “Are you feeling better?”

Peter fails at giving an audible answer due of his horribly dry throat. He tries again, barely managing to croak out “W-Water, please.”

To his astonishment, it’s Bruce who hurries over to the kitchen, returns with a glass of water a few seconds later. “Here you go. Try not to gulp it down too fast.”

When Peter reaches out with his right hand (the only one he can even move), he notices that there’s a cannula taped to its back and it’s heavily bandaged, making it almost impossible to grab the heavy glass. “You had some nasty cuts on that,” Bruce explains when he catches Peter staring at it. “Stephen had to do some stitches.”

 _Right._ He stabbed Tony with a shard of pottery…

“Wait, lemme…” Natasha says in a motherly tone, helping him move the glass to his lips. It makes Peter feel like a toddler, but no matter how embarrassing it is, he _needs_ to drink. Once he’s done, he thanks them and asks how long he has been asleep.

“Overall, for about, um, fifty hours. You were awake once, but we had to sedate you again. You’ve lost a lot of blood and needed the rest.”

“He… shot me, right?”

“Um, yes,” Natasha admits, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “You were incredibly lucky... You got hit by two bullets in your left lower back and left shoulder, but both are flesh wounds. A third one grazed you down at your left hip. Even so, if Stephen and Bruce hadn’t taken care of you so fast, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.”

Peter swallows thickly. “Th-Thanks, but… you should have let me die.”

Whatever Natasha and Bruce expected, it’s not this. “What?”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Peter whispers, eyes filling with tears. “And he’s just… going to shoot me again when he finds out I'm alive, because- because it’s my fault his name is out there and-” The grown-ups exchange a rather concerned look when Peter starts sobbing uncontrollably.

“He won’t shoot you again, kid,” Bruce says in an oddly soothing voice. “In fact, he’s been pretty… well, don’t let him know I told you, but he was pretty upset when he thought he had killed you.”

“ _Upset?_ H-He kicked and b-beat me b-before he fired at me.”

“Um… well, I won’t deny that he was – and still is – rather furious. Nevertheless, he didn’t mean to shoot you. He even threatened to cut off our fingers if we didn’t do anything in our power to save your life.”

If that was true, then only because Tony wouldn’t be able to rape and hurt him anymore, that’s for sure. Besides, he has always said he would kill Peter when he’s eventually bored of him. Now, he will most certainly make sure it’s slow and painful when he does.

“Please, I- I want this to be over. C-Can’t you please just… m-make me fall asleep i-in peace and t-tell him that I didn’t make it after all? _Please_!”

With a sigh, Natasha asks Bruce to leave them alone. Then, she places a hand on Peter’s leg carefully, halting immediately when he flinches. “Look… I know how it feels to go through hell, okay? When everything seems hopeless and you just want to… _give up_ , but… You gotta stay strong. You never know what the future holds.”

Seeing a glimmer of hope, the boy gathers all his courage. “What do you m-mean? W-Will you call the police on him?”

“No... Sorry, but I can’t.”

“W-Why n-not? I- If you know what it’s l-like then…then why-”

“Because, believe it or not, he’s my friend. We’ve been close for a very long time and just because I don’t like how he’s treating you, doesn’t mean I will stab him in the back. Also, I owe him _a lot._ ”

“Can you p-please help me get back home, then? P-Please, I- I’d do anything.”

Natasha sighs, long and deeply. “You know I can’t do that either. I wish I could, but it’s not possible, it would put us all at risk. I have a wonderful fiancé, friends I would die for, and a great mother and sister whom I love very much. I won’t risk any of them getting hurt, not even for an innocent child like you.”

“I- I promise I won’t say anything.”

“Look… even if you believed that yourself, the FBI would find a way to get you talking, believe me. Officially, their main priority might be getting you out of here safely, but trust me when I tell you that many of those disgusting men care a lot more about the money and us humiliating them than about your well-being. They would put immense pressure on you and bait you with a high reward and placement in the witness protection program, just like they’re already doing right now. I can’t risk it. I have too much to lose. I can only try and make him go easy on you, but apart from that, my hands are tied.”

Although Peter knows he should be grateful for her standing up for him whenever she can, he can’t help bursting into tears of anger and disappointment. “G-Go _easy_ on m-me? Like what, r-rape me o-only once a day instead of t-twice? C-Cut me open with his knife again instead of sh-shooting me? Y-You d-don’t know what it’s like. Y-You don’t know _anything_!”

Nat’s eyes sparkle with anger, and yet her voice is soft and sympathetic when she speaks. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, but you don’t know what it’s like to be me either. Now, please lie down again and get some more rest. If you need anything, I’m here.”

With that, Natasha gets up, ultimately ending the conversation. Feeling horribly shitty about his outburst, Peter eventually falls back into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares about Uncle Ben getting shot; only this time, the boy can feel the pain of the bullets hitting his body. He wakes up to Bruce towering over him, pulling the blanket off of his-

With a panicked scream, Peter shoots up, trying to skid away from the man’s hands. Bruce, who’s screaming as well, flinches so horribly he stumbles and lands on his ass.

“What is going on?” Natasha comes running into the room, looking alarmed.

Peter is shaking way too hard to form any coherent words. “He…he…“

“I wanted to change his bandages, but I think I scared him.”

“You know, I really love you, babe, but you can be fucking insensitive,” she growls, rolling her eyes. Only now Peter comprehends that _Bruce_ is her fiancé. Not some random person he doesn’t know. _Oh._ With a tender smile, Natasha looks at Peter. “I know this is unpleasant, but I need to treat your wounds. Is that okay? You think you can you sit up to make it easier?”

Although Natasha is careful, changing the bandages as well as treating the stitched-up bullet wounds and cuts all over his body hurts a lot. Only now Peter notices a few nasty bruises on his chest and ribcage, and Natasha explains that they assume he has one or two cracked ribs from getting kicked. Bruce also says they have no idea yet if the bullets have done any lasting damage to his nervous system. _Great._

“I'm sorry I'm such a bother to you.”

“You're not a bother at all."

Peter can't help tearing up. "Th-Thank you... h-how long can I stay here with you?"

"I don’t know. To be honest, you’re only here because Tony doesn’t really want to see you right now, let alone take care of you. I wouldn’t expect him to calm down for one or two more weeks at least.”

That’s not exactly long. However, Peter holds onto the hope that the FBI will find them soon and that he might never have to see Tony ever again.

Bruce, as it turns out, is nothing like Tony. He’s always friendly and calm, albeit distanced. And yet, the first time he offers him soup and a glass of OJ, Peter instinctively refuses, too afraid of having to suck his dick in exchange. Sighing deeply, the man looks down at him with a certain bitterness in eyes. “I guess Tony has- well, we won’t ever ask you for anything in exchange for a meal. Promise. In our house, everyone who’s hungry gets to eat, and with that I mean _proper_ food. Okay? Now please do me a favor and let me feed you some soup. It will help with the healing.”

Dr. Strange comes by twice a day to look after his injuries and adjust his medication. Since Natasha is always with them, Peter manages to endure it without panicking most of the times. He even manages to stay reasonably calm when Dr. Strange touches his penis to pull the catheter out, thoroughly relieved to get control over his bladder again.

After three more days, Peter doesn’t require help eating any longer and feels strong enough to join Nat and Bruce at the table for meals. Although he hardly ever speaks, he enjoys listening to the two grown-ups, feeling somewhat _safe_ for the first time in weeks. What does worry him, however, is that he can’t seem to be able to walk anymore without limping a little bit and that the fingers of his left hand sometimes twitch or feel weirdly numb for a few seconds. According to Dr. Strange, the bullets might have done some permanent damage to his brachial and lumbalis plexus, and only time would show how bad it is and if it can heal by itself.

Throughout the day, Nat and Bruce let him read or watch TV whenever he wants, and Bruce even chats with him about Science stuff a bunch of times. Even so, Peter can’t stop being a little distrustful and scared of him; he’s a man, after all. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to strike…

Sometimes, Wanda and Valkyrie come over to talk to Nat about _girl stuff._ After about a week, however, someone rather unexpected pays a visit to the house. _Clint Barton._

Thankful for the clothes Bruce gave him a few days ago, Peter looks at him warily. _What is he doing here?_ What baffles Peter even more is that Clint doesn’t seem to be here for Bruce, because the scientist retreats into the bedroom, saying he’ll get some work done and let him and Nat ‘catch up in peace’.

As soon as Bruce is gone, Clint asks Natasha with a grin, “So…How’s the babysitting going?”

“Oh, shut up. Want a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks, darling.”

Peter barely dares to look at the man when he flops into the armchair, winking at him. When Natasha returns, she sits down as well, asking whether there’s been any news. “No. Seems we’re all safe for now. All reports of people claiming to have seen Tony somewhere have been complete bullshit. They're all just thirsty for the reward. Carol was able to confirm that the feds have no proper lead.”

“Mhm. And have you finally heard from Laura?”

“I did. She even let me talk to the kids.”

When Clint starts talking about his _children_ that are supposedly living with his _ex-wife_ somewhere in the US, Peter stops listening. Knowing that Clint, who’s in the top 3 of Peter’s ‘Worst Avengers’ list, has three children makes him want to curl into a ball and cry. However, when Clint mentions Tony’s name, Peter can’t block his voice out any longer. “…upset that him and Tony fucked again.”

_Tony fucked who?_

“Why doesn’t Bucky just tell him how he really feels about it?”

“Because he was the one who didn’t want to be exclusive.”

“Well, Karma is a bitch,” Natasha snorts. “I honestly thought Tony and Steve were done for real though. Gosh, I’m missing out on so much tea...”

_Wait. So Tony and Steve had-_

_Though Steve is actually with Bucky and-_

_What?_

“To be honest, I think Tony’s interest is mainly physical. I mean, he doesn’t have anyone else right now who could help him satisfy his insatiable thirst, does he?” Clint’s eyes flicker over to Peter and he winks once more, causing the boy to blush.

“Don’t look at him like that,” Natasha hisses, but Clint only shrugs his shoulders. “Relax, I ain’t doing nothing. What about you and Bruce, though? I thought you were going to get married as soon as the heist is over.”

“We decided to wait until things have settled. Shuri said we can give her a call anytime.”

After almost an hour, Clint finally leaves. “We should do this more often,” he tells Nat before winking at Peter one last time. “Goodbye, _princess_.”

“I really fucking hate that side of you, you know that." Scowling, Natasha shoves him out the house, banging the door shut. Looking apologetically, she turns towards Peter. “I’m sorry. He’s just… a real dick sometimes.”

“He’s one of the worst,” Peter mumbles, trying to hold back tears, “He’s always begging Mr. Stark to- to l-let him touch me. If you don’t tolerate these things, then why do you like him?”

“Because life isn’t always black and white. Clint and I… we were a thing once,” the woman explains, throwing Peter off-guard. “Before he met Laura and long before I met Bruce. I was still a very young woman back then. We were both supposed to assassinate one another, but… well. We had a little Mr. and Mrs. Smith moment. He helped me leave the organization I had been, um, ‘working for’.”

“But didn’t you still… kill people after that?”

“I did, but I wasn’t taking orders from anyone anymore. I laid down my own rules and actually got paid for what I did.”

Hearing her speaking about murdering people as if it was just a normal job makes Peter feel nauseated. “But…you _killed_ people. Doesn’t that make you feel bad?”

“Not when I thought they deserved it.”

“Nobody deserves death.”

“So you claim you don’t think Tony does?”

“I- m-maybe but… he _hurt_ me and killed hostages and-”

“And other bad men - or women - hurt other innocents. If I didn’t personally know Tony, I would assassinate him without even blinking an eye if the price was right. Heck, I’d assassinate myself if I wasn’t, well, _me_.”

“Why did you even start, then?”

“You see…I got trained to become a high-skilled assassin while I was barely a teenager. They took me from my family when I was fourteen and started to _train_ me. They did the same thing with other girls as well… They locked us up and manipulated us. If we didn't do what they wanted, they beat us. In pairs, they sometimes forced us to violently spare against each other until one managed to kill the other. They also castrated us to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally get us pregnant when they… raped us. They called it the _Red Room Training Program_. In the end, we were so brainwashed we didn’t even think of running when they sent us out to do our job. We always returned at the end of the day.”

Peter has been listening with an open mouth; it’s the most fucked up thing he has ever heard, and knowing that Natasha had to go through that… _holy shit._

“With Clint’s help, I remembered who I was and found the courage to get out of there. He brought me to Tony, actually, who took me in without question. Tony had a lot of connections and managed to find my family for me, but… _they_ had found them faster. They killed my dad. Then, they kidnapped my mother and little sister to torture and rape them just to take revenge on me for betraying them. If it wasn’t for Tony, I would have never seen them again. He risked his life to get them out of there and he didn’t even ask me for anything in return. Not once. And when the feds started to come after my ass, he helped cover my tracks and heritage and found a safe place for my mom and sister where they can live in peace and where nobody would ever find them. That’s why I owe him and the main reason why I will never rat him out.”

Peter doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Tony has ever done anything nice for anyone, so he tries to ignore that part of the story. “Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry. I- I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine, Pete. It made me stronger and shaped me into the woman I am today. I usually don’t talk about it anymore, but … Maybe it will help you stay strong and… endure it. You probably don’t want to hear it, but Tony can be nice. You see, life hasn’t been easy on him either. It’s not my right to tell you any details, but… Let’s just say, whereas I grew up learning how to fight and kill, he grew up learning how to rape and kill. It doesn’t excuse how he’s treating you, of course, not even a tiny bit, but I’m convinced that somewhere deep inside of him there is something 'good' and caring that hasn’t been completely destroyed yet. If you… give him what he wants, then… maybe I will get better.”

“But…I hate it when he touches me. I- I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Just try to imagine someone else. Some hot guy from your school or a celebrity. That’s what I used to do.”

“I- I’m not gay though and… the thought of t-touching a- a… penis disgusts me. And I can't think of a- a girl because- I mean, he d-does things a female wouldn’t physically be able to do.”

“I’m not trying to be insensitive, but… nowadays, many straight men ask their girlfriends to… you know, _top_ them by using toys. It’s called pegging.”

In genuine aversion, Peter screws up his face. How can a man voluntarily ask for something like this? _Because it feels awesome to have your prostate stimulated, you hypocrite._

Shuttering, the boy lowers his gaze. “To be honest, I hate it even more when he makes me feel… good. When my body reacts to it and acts like it’s into what he does to me. Like… who o-orgasms during r-rape?”

Nat opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, a male voice does. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Bruce has quietly returned from the bedroom, making both Peter and Natasha wince. “Sorry, I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but… Peter, an orgasm is a natural reaction to physical stimulation. Have you ever tried holding back a sneeze and failed?”

Blushing deeply, Peter nods his head. “Thought so. It’s another example for a natural reaction. Just like pain will make you scream and jerk, and getting tickled will make you laugh and squirm, sexual stimulation will make you moan and orgasm, no matter what. You can’t control it, or at least, only to an extent. Trust me, I’m a doctor with seven PhDs.”

“And yet you always emphasize that you’re not _that kind_ of doctor,” Natasha jokes, trying to ease the palpable tension in the room. To Peter’s greatest surprise, it actually causes him to giggle quietly. And then, for a few blissful seconds, he’s laughing harder than he has in ages, before it changes into a heartbroken sobbing without warning. “I- I just want to go home.”

“I know,” Natasha says, a single tear running down her cheek. “I’m so sorry.” She hesitates, but then she carefully wraps her arms around him. 

Throughout the next couple of days, Peter makes a lot of progress. Albeit some movements still hurt him, sitting and walking barely cause him pain anymore. In addition, the heart-to-heart talk Peter had with Natasha and, kind of, Bruce has helped him re-gain a little bit of confidence and vitality. They also try to distract him by watching movies with him or inviting him to play card and board games with them whenever he feels fit enough to.

About two weeks after Peter almost bled to death, they are in the middle of a very fun round of UNO when a loud knock on the door has Bruce getting up with a sigh. “It’s probably Stephen.”

“Make it quick or you’ll miss Pete drawing... _six_.” With a smug grin, Natasha places a +4 card onto the +2 card on top of the stack.

Peter, who has his back to the door, shakes his head, snorting. “How many times do I have to tell you that the official rules don’t allow stacking Draw 2 and Draw 4 cards?”

“Come on, don’t be such a-“ Natasha begins, but the words die in her throat when she stares at to the door rather anxiously.

Peter doesn’t need to turn his head to know who has just stepped into the room. He’s only ever met one person in his life whose sheer appearance is enough to lead to a sudden, tangible drop in temperature. “I'm _truly_ sorry for having to interrupt this _cutesy_ soul-stirring happy family moment, but I’m afraid you have something that belongs to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure this isn’t even close to what you expected or hoped for after all the action in the last chapter, but I had to give Peter a break 😭 Also, I'm a sucker for backgroundstories.
> 
> Before I get comments saying how unrealistic this all is: You might be right. Unfortunately, I’m not a doctor, but this isn’t real life 😊 Some facts or additional info, though:
> 
>   * There are quick blood-type tests you can buy at pharmacies
>   * Just like in the TV show, they had (stolen) banked blood with them in case an Avenger got injured during the heist or afterwards. They also had some basic equipment like infusions etc. (they had a lot more in the show lol)
>   * You don’t need to be in a hospital to get a catheter. 
>   * Getting hit by bullets in the back or shoulder CAN be rather “unproblematic” in terms of survival and healing as long as no artery is severed and no organs or bones are hit. 
>   * The treatment for fractured ribs is mainly “no sports and a lot of rest”.
>   * If I hadn't chosen to give Peter “convenient” injuries he would have died because Tony would not have risked getting him to a hospital (he might have bled out too fast anyway).
> 



	24. Twenty-Three (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes sure Peter knows his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in my life, I had a chapter beta-read <3 I wanna say a big thanks to [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for proof-reading, make sure to check out her amazing Natasha/Clint fic if you like that ship :)

The boy is trembling, looking close to pissing his pants. Tony walks around the table to get a better view of him and when their eyes meet, Peter quickly closes his lids as if hoping Tony would evaporate if he couldn’t see him anymore. Whimpering, he drops his playing cards. “I-It’s good to s-see you, sir.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony snarls, “I’m not in the mood for your fucking bullshit.”

“Tony…” Natasha groans warningly, “Don’t be such a dick.”

Ignoring her, Tony keeps his gaze on the boy. “Holiday’s over. Get up and wait for me in my kitchen.”

Like a scalded cat, Peter jumps up from the chair, distorting his face in pain at the sudden movement. He’s at the door already when Tony calls him back. “Where’s your manners? Don’t you want to give Bruce his clothes back?”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Peter anxiously looks at Bruce. “It’s fine, Tony, he can keep them,” the scientist promptly says, flashing Peter a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, but I insist. Slut, take off Bruce’s clothes.”

Whereas the boy hurries to comply, Natasha raises from her seat, eyeing Tony with disgust. “You’re a _monster_.”

“Tell me something new,” Tony retorts, watching with satisfaction as Peter undresses obediently, showing off a heavily scarred back. Without looking at Natasha or Bruce again, he chokes out a very tearful ‘Th-Thank you so much for everything’ before leaving the house, limping slightly.

As soon as the boy is gone, Natasha starts yelling, tears of anger spilling from her eyes. “Can’t you be nice _for once?_ He’s a fucking child, Tony, and he’s so… good and _pure_ despite everything you’ve done to him. I swear, if you continue to mistreat him, then I’ll…I’ll…”

“Do what, rat me out to the police? Go ahead. Me and the kid will either be gone or dead before they even get here. Besides, I highly doubt they would give immunity and amnesty to the _Black Widow_ of all people.”

Changing tactics, Natasha takes a few deep breaths to calm down. “Tony… I know that deep down, you’re a good man-”

Tony bursts out laughing before she has even finished. “I’m a what? Are you on drugs?”

“You rescued and hid my family although you didn’t have to give a shit.”

“I did that because I liked you. You’re my friend, _Natalia,_ but that’s about to change if you don’t stop putting your nose in other people’s business.”

“If I’m really your friend, then you know why I can’t just be silent and watch you hurt him like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to hurt him so much if he wasn’t such a stubborn little bitch. If it makes you feel any better, though: I’m willing to start over and be as nice to him as he deserves, which depends entirely on his demeanor. There are rules he has to follow and if he violates them, I’ll have to punish him.”

Natasha looks like she’s fighting some sort of internal battle. Then, she sighs heavily. “Look…I know what you’re trying to do. And as much as I hate supporting you with it, I want his life to become better… So, listen - if you treat him with respect and kindness, you’re more likely to succeed. You should see how he’s acting towards us. We could have asked anything of him and he would have been _eager_ to do it, because he’s a good kid and because he _likes_ us.”

“Oh yeah? He wouldn’t have tried to run away if he had gotten the chance? And he would have eagerly spread his legs for Bruce if you had asked him to?” Tony smirks when Natasha winces, looking taken-aback and repulsed at the sheer thought. “Figured.”

Turning to Bruce, Tony asks what he should take into consideration regarding Peter’s injuries and the further healing process. When Bruce urges him to ‘not be too physical’ for the next couple of weeks, Tony snorts dismissively. “Stephen has already advised me regarding these kinds of things. Anyways… thanks for taking care of him. I owe you one.”

He turns to go but pauses when his eyes fall on the discarded playing cards. “Any chance you let me borrow that game?”

Back at the house, he finds Peter sitting at the table with his head bowed, shaking like a leaf. An awkward silence hangs over them when both men are seated opposite from each other, the kid avoiding Tony’s cold stare by glancing at the table.

After a few minutes, Tony jumps over his shadow. “I’m sorry I shot you.” Astonished, the boy lifts his head, gaping at him as if he didn’t believe his ears. “Don’t get me wrong, you deserved a good licking, but it wasn’t my intention to shoot you. Not yet, anyways. It was stupid of _me_ to tell you so much and leave you unguarded, and clever of _you_ to tell your friends, I give you that. However, you can’t expect me to just let it go like that. I won’t be able to go anywhere ever again for the rest of my life, just because you thought you could be a hero. Which, let me remind you, is why you ended up here in the first place.”

Dropping his gaze once more, Peter clears his throat. “Sir, please… I’m sorry. I know I can’t take it back, but… At the bank, y-you said you might change your appearance after the heist, so-“

“Oh, _come on_ … your fate was sealed the moment I showed you my face. I only said that to make you think I wouldn’t kill you, which, I admit, would have been the outcome if you hadn’t turned out to be so goddamn fuckable. Anyways, it is what it is. Lucky for you, nobody has taken the deal so far and the FBI and SHIELD are starting to get desperate. Last week, they even raised the reward for the other Avengers, but when that didn’t work out either, they tried a new tactic yesterday.”

Tony leans forward to grab Peter’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Much to the public’s outrage, Agent Fury offered me a maximum of ten years in prison if I gave them the money and returned you back to your aunt in one piece. I guess I don’t have to tell you how tempted I am.”

Tony almost feels pity for the boy when a desperate gleam of hope sparks in his eyes. _So young and naïve._ “S-S-Sir…please, I- I can tell them that it was someone else who… h-hurt me and that you’ve been k-kind to me, and- Please, I’ll do anything.“

“I didn’t say I’m tempted to _accept the offer_ ,” Tony snorts, crushing Peter’s hope as fast as it came. “No, you dumb shit, I’m tempted to send you back in _more than one_ piece. Just think about it… on Monday, your aunt will find a finger in her mailbox. On Tuesday a toe, on Wednesday an ear, and so on. However, as I told you, I’m not attracted to disfigured cripples and I’m far from done with you.”

At first, Peter is too horrified to respond. When he eventually opens his mouth, no doubt to stutter out a lame and dishonest ‘Thank you’, Tony cuts him off right away.

“Don’t waste your breath. You’re going to pay for ruining my life, but not with any more physical violence. I came up with two ideas, and since I have such a big heart, I let you choose what it’s going to be. Option A: I respond by sending them the bullets that hit you and telling them that unfortunately, I have killed you already. Option B: I respond by sending them a video that looks like I recorded it in secret. In that video, they’ll be able to see you fucking yourself on my dick, wearing the sluttiest and most convincing smile the world has ever seen. I don’t care how many takes we need. There will be no tears, this time.”

It’s hard to say which option Peter thinks is worse. He seems shocked beyond words, staring at Tony with watery eyes.

“In case you wonder how I came up with Option B: I got inspired by a stupid conspiracy theory TheDailyBugle published a few weeks ago. They claimed you’d been in on the heist and demonstrated various stages of non-consensual role-play with me, your secret _lover,_ in order to keep the hostages at bay. Although I don’t think anyone with a brain believed it, hearing you _moan_ and _convincingly_ whisper how happy you are that I’ve chosen you to become my personal fleshlight would surely spread some doubt about your current mindset, don’t you think? You have time to decide until tomorrow. But now-”

Tony stands up, looking at him hungrily. Time to find out if he still remembers his place. “Get down on your knees.”

Taken by surprise at the sudden turn of events, Peter struggles to do as he’s told. He swallows thickly when Tony unbuttons his pants and moves closer. “Open up.”

Closing his eyes, Peter opens his mouth and even sticks out his tongue. The image of him kneeling there with his naked, bruised body and tears escaping his lash line goes straight into Tony’s dick, causing it to twitch excitedly. Cursing himself for leaving him in Natasha’s and Bruce’s care for so long, Tony grabs a few strings of the boy’s locks, tilting his head back. “Look at me.”

Fear and disgust sparks Peter’s otherwise glassy eyes when Tony pushes in. He stays completely still and holds the man’s gaze until Tony accidentally goes too far too fast, causing him to choke. Remembering what Stephen had told him about trying to _not_ make him choke due to his chest injuries, Tony withdraws a bit and tries to restrain himself from now on.

Despite holding back, Tony knows he won’t last long; he has missed ~~him~~ his body so goddamn much and the way the teen’s doe eyes are locked with his own push him over the edge way too fast.

Even though Peter still knows how to swallow, he does look a little too grossed out for Tony’s liking, indicating that the two-week long break has made him forget the one or other thing after all. Well, Tony’s going to make sure he’ll get used to it again before he even knows it.

And yet, the boy did surprisingly well. No resistance, no disobedience, no pleading, no tears… Feeling oddly obliging, Tony holds out his hand in to help him up. Very reluctantly, Peter grabs his hand and lets himself get pulled up, wincing when the movement gives him pain. “Next time I expect you to be more enthusiastic, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eyeing him up and down, Tony can’t help being a little bothered by the faint stubble on Peter’s chin and cheekbones. Admittedly, it’s not much, which is pretty astonishing for a 16-year-old boy who hasn’t seen a razor in almost _five weeks,_ but it needs to go. His hair could use a trim too.

Peter doesn’t question it when Tony sends him to take a shower to get rid of any facial and body hair he can find. Although he hands the boy a few rather blunt disposable razors that shouldn’t be too dangerous, he still tells JARVIS to have an eye on him just in case he tried something stupid.

When he’s done, Tony takes care of his head hair, being surprisingly pleased with the result at last. “Now you almost look like when we first met. Apart from that nasty scar on your cheek.”

Not to mention the lifeless eyes as well as the countless scars and bruises scattered over his body. _He needs to find other methods to punish him in the future._

Tony decides to go easy on Peter today and prepares a quick dinner himself, some pasta with salmon and shrimp. He lets the boy have a third of his serving, pointing out that by tomorrow, things would be back to normal. “Also, we will resume your training in about two weeks, depending on your condition.”

Shuttering visibly, Peter croaks out a feeble ‘Okay, sir’, staring at his glass of water as if he considered trying to drown himself in it. Just when Tony reflects upon saying something nice, someone knocks on the door. “Come in.”

It’s Loki, looking a tad surprised at seeing Peter back with Tony. “Oh… sorry to disturb, I just wanted to fetch the key for the plane…Rhodey and I will be fling to _you know where_ tomorrow.”

“You know where _M_ or you know where _N_?”

“What?”

Sighing, Tony gets up, fetches the key from the safe and takes Loki outside, making sure to close the door behind them. “Miami or Nassau?”

“Oh. Miami. Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Rhodey to fetch me some more palladium. When will you be back?”

“If everything goes as well as last time, I’d say around eight pm? I’ll stop by afterwards anyway… after all, tomorrow marks the day our bet ends. I’ve been wondering, how are you going to demonstrate the boy’s your… what was it? Oh, yes.“ The man’s lip curls into a contemptuous smile. “Your loyal, needy little lap dog?”

For a few seconds, Tony gapes at him in disbelief. Ever since the press conference, he hasn’t given any thought to their stupid bet anymore. Fuck. There’s no way Peter will _voluntarily_ suck his dick in front of everyone else, especially considering he had refused to do it the day before he shot him. However, he can’t let Loki win either. He only got the kid back two hours ago… he can’t give him away again for another week.

“Well… as you know, he’s stayed with Bruce and Nat for the last 14 days.”

“So? You said he’d be the perfect slave after a month at the island. And it has been a month.”

“Yes, after a month of _having him_ in my house _._ I only had him for two weeks.”

“You know as well as me that we didn’t agree on that. We agreed on _one month_ , regardless of the circumstances.”

“ _Clausula rebus sic stantibus_.”

“What?”

“It’s the legal doctrine allowing for an agreement to become inapplicable because of a fundamental change of circumstances. If I had thought it possible to break and turn him around in two weeks, I would have bet on two weeks. Since I didn’t, our agreement isn’t valid anymore.”

Loki shakes his head, laughing. “You’re just trying to wriggle your way out of it because you know you’ve lost.”

“And you’re only refusing to extend the bet because you know I’ll win if I get the full month that we initially agreed on.”

Once more, Loki shakes his head. “You’re a fraud, Tony. You just can’t accept defeat _,_ can you?”

Clenching his teeth, Tony reminds himself not to lose his temper and treat Loki with caution. Besides, he can’t let Loki know he’s looked through him. “I’m going to have to disappoint you. I don’t have any problem admitting the kid isn’t where I want him yet. You can have half of the money we bet on if you insist, but I won’t give him to you for a week.”

“Okay… let’s say I agree to extend the bet for two more weeks. How are you going to prove you’ve broken him?”

“He’s going to suck my dick at another barbeque. I will give him a chance to initiate it himself and when he doesn’t, I’ll ask him nicely to do it. If he still doesn’t, you’ve won.”

“Wait, was that why you dragged him with you last time? I didn’t see him doing anything back then.”

“Because he refused. He knew he wouldn’t have to fear punishment. It’s a deal we’ve had for a while now. And I’ll tell him I won’t punish him even if he outright refuses it.”

“You know what? I honestly can’t wait to see you fail again... your disappointment and my triumph will be even greater, then. You get two weeks, not a day longer, no matter the circumstances. And don’t even think you can trick me. If I win, I’ll get to have him for a week, starting _right after our bet ends_. Good night.”

Wary, Tony watches as Loki walks off. Something seems fishy… he’s given in way too fast. Back inside the house, Tony finds Peter still sitting in front of his empty plate, crying silently. _This is not going to be easy._ He’ll have to come up with something if he doesn’t want to lose face. _Or the boy…_

To make an effort, Tony leaves Peter alone for the rest of the evening. Later in the bathroom, the teen makes big eyes when Tony hands him a fresh toothbrush. “I know I said you’d have to earn this, but… see it as compensation for your injuries.”

Peter seems to be torn between wanting to strangle him and being sincerely grateful about not having to use Tony’s brush again. To his own fortune, he settles on the latter, accepting the gift with a submissive ‘Thank you, sir’.

Since he’s not that tired yet, Tony decides to take the laptop to bed. After Peter has lain down, Tony rolls him on his side and places the laptop next to him. Then, he lies down as well, skidding close to Peter’s back and starting the next episode of Breaking Bad.

Since Tony doesn’t wrap his arms around the smaller one, they’re not actual spooning. Nevertheless, his dick still gets hard after only a few minutes, so Tony fetches the lube and fumbles for Peter’s entrance, knowing the teen will probably be quite tight after not having sex for two weeks.

Whimpering, the boy’s fingers dig into the sheets. He’s quivering in fear and tenses as soon as Tony inserts the first digit into his bottom, inhaling sharply. “Relax. I’ll… take it slow, all right?”

It requires all of Tony’s self-control to prepare the teenager and give him time to adjust. He wants nothing more than to put his dick in and fuck his brains out, but he knows Natasha’s right. Apart from inevitable punishments, Tony should try not to cause him any more unnecessary pain. Also, Dr. Strange said he needed to be careful with sex for at least two more weeks, which is why the further orgasm training would have wait too.

After about five minutes, Tony eventually lubes himself up, pushing in very slowly. It feels so good that for a few seconds, the man forgets everything around him. Instead of fucking the boy straightaway, he stays still for a while, relishing the warm tightness of Peter’s ass clenching around him. Peter’s not crying, but he’s taking short, gaspy inhales that become more erratic once Tony starts to slowfuck him.

Comparing _this_ to jerking off to porn videos of submissive twinks getting obliterated or distracting himself with Steve, Tony can’t help cursing himself yet again for losing control and almost killing the teenager.

Not only is Peter ten times cuter than every porn actor _– or any other person_ \- he has ever seen, now that Tony has him back, he can do with him _whatever_ the fuck he wants and _whenever_ he wants. Why would he need badly acted porn when the world’s most perfect ass is available to him twenty-four-seven? 

_How the fuck did he manage to survive without the kid for so long?_

Seriously, Tony has no idea.

He only knows that he never wants to be without Peter ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, who would have thought, Tony's still an asshole lol. And yet, I hope you did notice the subtle change in his thoughts and feelings... ;)  
> \--  
> After everything that has been going on lately I honestly wasn't sure if it really is the right time to update fics. However, I know a lot of you are looking forward to these updates so I didn't want to disappoint you. Lemme add a few personal words though: My heart is bleeding for what happened in the US, but at the same time, it also warms my soul to see that all over the world people are marching together to stand up for justice and equality. We need to do everything in our power to make things not just better, but **right.**  
>  Please click this link <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/> to find out how you can help 🖤  
> The color of our skin doesn't define us. Our gender, religion and sexuality don't define us. We are all human and we share one planet. Let's be kind to each other 🖤


	25. Twenty-Four (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearing another punishment, Peter tries his best to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm giving up making these chapters around 2k... The words just keep flowing and I really hope you don't mind that these are all twice as long now ;) I even had to take out a scene and postpone it to the next Peter chapter. 
> 
> Thanks again to [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

Peter squirms a little when Tony nibbles on his neck and grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling and tilting the boy’s head until he can kiss him messily. The man’s right arm wraps around Peter’s waist to keep him close while he pounds into him more aggressively, alternating between sucking and biting down on the teen’s bottom lip.

When Tony brushes against his prostate, Peter can’t help letting out a quiet moan despite the pain in his rectum and various other parts of his body that haven’t fully healed yet. Although he does try to remember Nat’s and Bruce’s words, he still feels greatly ashamed when his dick gets hard despite nothing touching it. It gets worse (or better? _This is so fucked up_ ) when Tony suddenly pinches Peter’s nipple and speeds up, focused mainly on chasing his release.

Tony bites into Peter’s neck when he spills his seed inside of him, panting heavily as he rides it out. It seems to take forever until the man finally pulls out, dragging cum with him. To Peter’s disgust, Tony makes no move to give him some space, keeping his sticky dick between his buttocks and his sweaty chest pressed firmly against Peter’s back.

After a few more seconds, Tony’s right hand finds the boy’s embarrassingly hard cock, chuckling silently in his ear. “At least one part of you is excited to be back in my bed. Tell me, slut… how often have you jerked off whilst being separated from me?”

When his fingers firmly close around his length, Peter’s hips automatically buck forward. He hates to admit it, but it feels way too good. “N-Never, sir.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“S-Sir… E-Even if I had wanted to… my hands were injured.”

“That reminds me…” Tony growls, squeezing so hard that Peter whimpers in pain. “You stabbed me.”

“I- I know, sir, please, I’m sorry, please, s-stop.” Just when the boy thinks he can’t take it anymore, Tony relinquishes his grip. “You better be. Never do that again, you hear me?”

“I won’t, sir.”

Satisfied, Tony moves his fingers to Peter’s mouth, ordering him to suck on them. Then, he starts jerking the boy off, reminding him to ask for permission to cum if he doesn’t want to get his thigh sliced. Seems like nothing has changed while Peter was gone. _And nothing will ever change._ Not if Peter continues to fight it.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, the boy tries to get himself together. Natasha had to go through so much worse than him and she managed to survive and escape, even. What was it she said? _‘If you give him what he wants, then maybe it will get better.’_

Closing his eyes, the boy tries to ‘enjoy’ it as much as possible, imagining Michelle. It’s too painful though, so he settles for a cute teen actress he’s had sort of a crush on once instead. It’s not perfect, but it works to a certain extent. When he eventually feels that he’s close, he pleads for release. “Can I please cum, sir?”

“Not yet. Do you like what I’m doing to you?”

 _‘If you give him what he wants, then…’_ “Yes, sir, I like it when you touch me.” _Give him what he wants._ “F-F-Feels so good, please, I need- Please, sir.”

“All right… cum for me, boy.”

With an embarrassingly needy groan, Peter releases all over his stomach and Tony’s hand, thankful for a few seconds of bliss. The older man milks him through it but stops before Peter feels overstimulated. Not daring to trust the situation just yet, Peter obediently eats the cum off Tony’s fingers, wondering what the man’s next move will be.

“You know, I don’t have to give you any pleasure at all,” Tony says when Peter’s done, “In fact, I could put your dick in a nice little cock cage and use your body without letting you get anything off of it ever again.”

Peter has no idea what the fuck a cock cage is, but it sounds horribly frightening. Why is Tony telling him- _Oh._ “I- I know, sir, thank you so much.” _Give him what he wants._ “I’m s-sorry for…for forgetting to show my appreciation. You’re so generous, sir.”

Tony looks surprised, yet askance. Did Peter lay it on too thick? “Am I, huh? Well… I don’t know about you, but I have no idea what’s been going on in the episode. Want to start over or are you tired already?”

Baffled, Peter glances at the laptop next to him; he’s completely forgotten about the show. “Uhm, I- I don’t know, I mean, whatever you want, sir.”

“I asked what _you_ wanted, is this so fucking hard? Are you tired, yes or no?” Tony looks vastly irritated, so Peter hastily nods his head. “Y-Yeah, I’m tired, sir. I’d rather… sleep.”

“Then shut it off and put it on the floor.”

Horribly confused, Peter does as he’s told. There’s only one blanket again, but thankfully, Tony keeps his distance. “JARVIS, turn off the light. Good night.” After a few seconds of silence, the man growls threateningly. “I said 'Good night'.”

Peter’s hackles raise. “G-Good night, sir, sorry, I thought- I thought you were speaking to JARVIS.”

“Why the fuck would I wish JARVIS a good night?”

“W-Why would you… wish _me_ a good night, sir?”

Tony ignores it completely. “Don’t forget to give me your answer tomorrow”.

Peter’s stomach twists nastily. Which option should he choose? Both are _horrible._ Peter doesn’t want May and his friends to think he’s enjoying his captivity. To be fair, they most likely would know he’s forced to do it even if he looked happy, and by now, Peter almost doesn't give a shit about what other people think anymore.

The thing is, though… _he’s dead anyway._ The FBI has no clue about their whereabouts and Peter has no chance to escape from a desert island with a GPS tracker implanted in his skin. One day, Tony _will_ kill him, so giving May false hope about him ever returning to her would be cruel. Sure, his ‘death’ would break her heart, especially after what happened to Ben, but he knows that she and MJ will never be able to move on if they think he’s still out there, getting abused.

It takes Peter forever to fall asleep. Though, when Tony wakes him up by telling JARVIS to blast loud rock music through the small house, he has made a painful decision.

Once the boy is standing in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, Peter notices weird looking locks on every single drawer and cupboard. Seems like Tony doesn’t even trust him with forks and butter knives anymore except for when they’re eating.

After unlocking the drawers with a simple command to JARVIS, Tony sets the table himself and addresses the rules. “Make sure to prepare one and a half servings for every meal and go down on your knees as soon as I sit if you want anything of it. I don’t want to have to ask you all the time.”

Now that Peter remembers what it’s like to have three good meals every day, he knows he won’t be able to resist all the time. So, why fight a losing battle? _Give him what he wants._

Tears build in the corners of his eyes when he drops down on his knees as soon as he’s put the plate in front of Tony, bowing his head in shame when the man grins smugly. “Remember… Don’t suck unless I tell you to.”

When they’re both done, Tony asks Peter what decision he’s come to. Swallowing thickly, the boy gives a barely audible answer. “Tell them you killed me, sir. Please.”

“You sure you want your poor aunt to think you’re dead instead of showing her what a good time we’re having?”

“I know I’ll never see her again and… I don’t want her to have any false hopes. M-My death will give her peace, eventually.” Moreover, at least he would have died as ‘himself’ in her eyes, not as someone who’s happily fucking and kissing the man who kidnapped and tortures him.

“All right. Keep in mind though that forensics will be able to tell that these bullets hit your body. Besides, falsely admitting that I killed you won’t do me any real favor in their eyes, so don’t cherish false hopes yourself.”

“I know, sir.” However, when he’s reading the horribly sarcastic and sadistic letter Tony shows him a few minutes later, Peter can’t help bawling like a baby. It’s even worse than he imagined.

> _“As much as I’d love to take you up on your offer, Mr. Fury, you might find that we have a problem. You see, after Peter Parker had served his purpose, he was of no use anymore. I wish I could have sent him back to Mrs. Parker in one (or more) piece(s), but I’m afraid his body is lost at sea; it really is unfortunate. My deepest condolences. -TS._
> 
> _PS: In lieu of his corpse, I’ve attached some bullets I kept as a memento of his deliciously tight body. They should have his blood on it._ _May_ _(Mrs.) Parker find her peace.”_

Tony’s lips curl into a venomous smirk at the sight of Peter’s tears. “I gotta say, I’m a little hurt to see you so upset. I made a great deal of effort to bring a smile to everyone’s faces despite the _tragedy_ of the situation.”

Tony prints it out and puts it in a padded envelope with the three deformed, bloody projectiles that hit (or at least grazed) Peter’s body. “Scott will take it with him when he leaves tomorrow. He’ll give it to one of his contacts who’ll give it to someone else, who’ll deliver it to a police station in Kentucky.”

 _Kentucky?_ They sure as hell know how to cover their tracks. Tony then leaves Peter alone for an hour, looking oddly cheerful when he comes back. “So, now that this is over and done with, I feel like we could… start over.” _Start over?_ Peter frowns when Tony holds out his hand. “I’m Tony Stark.”

Convinced it is a trap, the boy reluctantly shakes it. _Give him what he wants._ “I- I’m… Mr. Stark’s slut.”

Tony freezes, gaping at Peter befuddled. And then, he starts laughing. Hard. “I admit, I didn’t see that coming.” A second later though, his expression darkens, and he pulls Peter so close that their faces almost touch. “I told you not to try and outsmart me, boy, so stop pretending.”

He’s probably overdone it... “S-Sir, please, I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, but if I try to be good, y-you say I’m pretending and get mad. I-If I’m bad, you get mad also. Please, tell me what you want me to do. I want to be good for you.”

“By telling me what you think I want to hear?”

 _Screw it…_ Here goes nothing. “Y-Yes, of course. Why would I be telling you something I know you _don’t_ want to hear? I don’t want to make you mad. I don’t want to get punished. B-Besides, in the night before the… press conference, you said- you said you can be nice if I adjust my attitude. I’m trying s-sir, please.”

He lets out a sigh of relief when Tony’s face softens. “Hmm. All right, but I’m warning you. No tricks. Now, change the bed sheets and come back here when you’re done. I want to show you something.”

Feeling horribly anxious, Peter hurries to comply. Whatever Tony wants to show him, it can’t be anything good. However, when he comes back, he sees the man working on a round, wired thingy that emits a bluish-white light. Hoping it’s not another weird sex toy, Peter asks, “W-What is this, sir?”

“The ‘Arc Reactor’. An invention of mine that I’ve been working on for quite some time. It’s a kind of fusion reactor that has the ability to generate an electromagnetic field.”

Peter jumps back in horror. “A _f-fusion reactor?_ Sir… with all due respect, but-“

If looks could kill, Peter would be six feet under right now. “I said _kind of_ fusion reactor. It consists of highly energized particles that are moving in a circular path due to a magnetic field acting upon them, thus generating energy through collisions.”

“So… kind of l-like the Large Hadron Collider?”

Tony nods acknowledging. Deeply impressed, Peter steps closer again, looking at it in awe. “How- how does it work?”

“It has a palladium core. The ejection of electrons from the core towards the rim of the device produces an electrical cell capable of generating enormous voltage and current. Palladium isotopes possess distinct nuclear properties, meaning the reactor will be able to produce more energy than required for it to keep running.”

“It’s… self-sustaining?”

“Yup. Due to its ability to absorb hydrogen, the palladium is responsible for a cold nuclear fusion. Therefore, the Arc Reactor runs on lower temperatures that don’t damage the human body, while also producing electricity directly through the generation of a minimal amount of heat, resulting in higher efficiency.”

Peter can’t help it; he’s completely overwhelmed. “S-Sir, this is…brilliant.”

“I know. Though, credit where credit is due, my grandfather was the one who came up with the basics. He built a prototype decades ago, but it was pretty large, and he had to shut it off after a nasty incident at Stark Industries. My useless father didn’t have the brains – or incentive – to make anything out of my grandfather’s knowledge, but I do. My goal is to create an Arc Reactor as small as this, with an infinite runtime and able to produce three gigajoules per second. Three hundred of those would be enough to provide enough clean energy for the United States for a whole year.”

“This could solve so many problems in the world, sir.”

Tony snorts amusedly. “Do I look like someone who wants to make the world a better place? I don’t care about the _world_ or about _money,_ now that I have more than I’ll ever need _._ No, I care about the intellectual challenge. I’m not quite where I want to be yet, but I thought you could help me with some calculations, maybe. Have you ever studied quantum physics?”

Peter inhales sharply. “N-Not in school, but… I read a few books about it when I was, uhm, t-twelve.”

“Thought so. Take a look at these and tell me what you think.”

Tony hands him a notebook filled with scribbly notes and formulas. It takes Peter almost three hours to get a vague idea of what Tony tried to calculate. He doubts he can be of any great use to man, but Tony seems satisfied with his answers when they talk about it later.

“Good job, kid. I want you to try and figure out what could help get the runtime up to a few hours. I have a few books you can read that will help you. Take your time, but if you had anything ready by next week, it would be very much appreciated.”

Peter barely believes his eyes when Tony hands him a bunch of books about basic and advanced quantum physics. Just a few hours ago he was mocking him, and now he suddenly wants Peter to work with him on his genius invention that he could undoubtedly finish on his own as well?

It doesn’t make any sense. However, if it led to Tony being nicer to him, it couldn’t hurt… could it? Moreover, it feels great to finally have something to do, especially something challenging and interesting.

Unfortunately, Tony’s behavior towards Peter doesn’t change all that much; sure, he doesn’t hit or insult him for the next couple of days, but he still demands that Peter sticks to the rules and gets his work done in the kitchen and household. On top of that, he rapes him once or twice a day, forcing him to plead and show his appreciation for orgasms. Albeit Tony’s not exactly _gentle_ during, he’s more cautious, and since Peter doesn’t have the strength or courage to deny the older man even once, Tony’s surprisingly pleased with him.

After a couple of days, Peter’s knees are raw from kneeling under the table at least thrice a day. He’s also starting to have difficulties getting the predominant, bitter flavor of Tony’s dick off his tongue; sometimes, he thinks he can taste it even when he’s brooding over the physics books. Peter doesn’t know how he manages to keep himself together, but the fear of angering the man and getting punished again makes him cope with it somehow.

As a reward, Tony eventually gives him some of his clothes again and even lets him out of the house, allowing him to read and make his calculations on the shady porch. Due to having been locked up for so many weeks, Peter’s eyes start to tear whenever he stays outside for more than a few minutes, and yet he prefers it to the small, oppressive cottage that has become his prison.

On day five after their reunion, Tony allows Peter to stay outside on his own for the first time while he goes on a swim. Since Peter knows the man is keeping a close eye on him via JARVIS and the tracker, he hasn’t even thought of trying to find a way to either kill himself or his captor. Instead, he tries to enjoy not having to be on edge for once and closes his eyes for a while, just listening to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

He must have fallen asleep, because suddenly, there are noises, startling him. “-salad and some beers.” Tony, Steve and, for some reason, Dr. Strange are looking down on him expectantly.

“Uhm, sorry, sir, I didn’t- can you please repeat it?”

“I told you to make us a Caesar salad for lunch and bring us three beers.”

“S-Sure, sir, I’m sorry.” Peter jumps up and hurries back into the house, tensing when the three men follow suit. It’s the first time Tony brings someone to the house and Peter can’t help feeling anxious about it.

“Make sure to prepare four servings,” the man whispers in his ear before squeezing Peter’s ass through his shorts, chuckling nastily. It’s obvious what he’s implying; he wants Peter to not refuse him like he did at the barbeque almost three weeks ago. Although the boy wouldn’t mind having to eat bread (or nothing) this one time, he’s not sure if he should risk denying Tony’s sinister wish again.

The men don’t pay him any attention while he’s cooking. Instead, they’re sitting at the table, drinking beer and chatting. Now that Peter knows that Tony and Steve have _history_ , he risks a peek at them every now and then. It’s not the first time he’s asked himself if they’ve actually dated or if they’ve just… fucked. Although Peter hates himself for it, he can’t help wondering if Tony ever let Steve get _on top._ They both look like they want to have the upper hand in bed, so how does that even-

“Ay, slut, y’know where my Poker cards are?”

“Um… y-yeah, you lent them to Th-Thor, I think.”

“Ah, yes. Shoot. Well, sorry guys, no game, then.”

“Do you want me to get them for you, sir?”

Tony raises his brows. “Um…No, but _thank you,_ slut _._ ”

It’s obvious that Tony doesn’t trust him - and rightfully so. Peter’s hoping that if he’s being _good_ now, that he won’t get punished if he refuses to drop down on his knees later.

“Since when do you have this?” Steve, who’s been rummaging through a drawer, asks a few seconds later, holding up the small UNO box.

“Borrowed it. We can play if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ve played this once since that darned school trip to Washington ten years ago.”

“You were still in school ten years ago?” Dr. Strange asks, looking baffled. “I thought you’re 36?”

“I was a teacher back then,” Steve explains, causing Peter’s stomach to twist nastily. A _teacher?_ And suddenly, Peter remembers the first time he saw Steve; Tony had him tied up in the director’s office, telling Steve that Peter was ‘most likely underage’, to which the blonde man called him a _lucky bastard_. What if…? _Oh. God._

Luckily, they don’t elaborate on it, so Peter concentrates on cooking the chicken. Hoping his left hand won’t fuck up again, the boy then serves them the salad, making sure to put the fourth plate down as well. However, Peter doesn’t dare to take a seat and stands there stupidly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Good boy. Now, don’t be shy. I _know_ you’re _hungry_ and want some of that nice salad, don’t you?”

Peter’s barely aware that the other two men are staring. His mind is racing. If he refuses, Tony will most likely punish him one way or another. If he does it, Tony will believe he’s broken him, which… is the truth, isn’t it? And it’s not like Tony won’t try it again anyway… _Give him what he wants._

Letting out a defeated sob, Peter drops to the floor, crawling under the table. He opens the cords of Tony’s shorts with his horribly shaking fingers, trying to ignore Steve’s face peeking under the table. “What is he doing?”

“Making his master very, _very_ happy,” Tony praises, sounding extremely satisfied. Peter doesn’t know if Steve’s still watching when he leans forward and takes Tony’s cock into his mouth. Tears stream down his face, making the man’s pants wet, and he winces when he feels Tony’s hand on the left side of his face. However, he’s not hurting him; instead, he’s caressing Peter’s cheek, wiping away the tears with an almost gentle motion of his thumb.

Because of them chatting, it takes forever until the men are done. Peter’s knees hurt terribly when he’s allowed to come up and eat his salad, relieved that Steve and Strange say their goodbyes a few minutes later.

“How about we take a day off work today?” Tony suggests when Peter’s finished, smiling contently. “I forgot how much fun this game can be, and I know you like it too, so… how about we play a few rounds?” Tony’s holding the UNO cards, looking one-hundred percent serious.

“Um…” _What choice does he have?_ “S-Sure. I’d… love to play, sir.”

“Great. How about we play a ‘best of seven’? Winner gets a blowjob.”

In short, no matter what, Peter’s going to be abused. _Awesome._ “O-Okay.”

As it turns out, playing with Tony isn’t… bad; it’s just _weird_ and not exactly fun since they’re both oddly stiff and silent. They’re in the middle of round three when JARVIS alerts Tony of ‘important news on CNN’. In an instant, the man has taken out his phone. Peter watches with bated breath, heart pounding. Do they have a lead?

The triumphant smile Tony flashes Peter a few minutes later crushes his faint shimmer of hope. “Good news, slut. You might get to see May in an hour.”

The boy needs a few seconds to comprehend what he’s just heard. “S-S-Sir?”

Chuckling, Tony puts the phone away and casually places a red ‘6’ card onto the stack. “CNN just reported your highly probable death. Apparently, SHIELD plans to haul your aunt in front of the cameras for a statement at 6 pm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll see May's reaction to his death next chapter, it was too long for this. Question, Would you be interested in a drabble fic for this?
> 
> I'm thinking of longer chapters or "one-shots" that are mainly smut or whatever, that don't drive the plot forward and that I wouldn't even write **at all** otherwise. IDK yet but I made poll to see if you'd like the general idea or not: <https://www.strawpoll.me/20337973>  
> (I realized the second answer is worded wrong, I would never include everything in the main story, only some of the smut scenes I'd otherwise post separately I guess)


	26. Twenty-Five (May & Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May finds out about Peter's 'death'. Tony faces a problem when Peter shows a very strong reaction to his aunt's statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around 70 % voted for a drabble fic, yay, thank you :) Makes me happy to see you want more of this. I won’t start writing for it just yet, but soon enough, I guess. First, I want to reach a specific point in the story.  
> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

It’s been thirty-five days since May has been forced to witness a man shoving his dick down her nephew’s throat.

Two weeks ago, the ~~man~~ monster finally got a name and a face. _Anthony Eduard Stark._ There’s not a lot known about him other than the fact that he’s a goddamn genius who graduated from _college_ age _seventeen,_ and that he (more or less) disappeared a few years after his parents’ death in 1991. Mr. Fury told her that apart from that one mugshot for _drunk driving_ , there were no records of Tony Stark whatsoever. No criminal records, no health records, not even records about former employment or residences. Nothing.

And yet, May is convinced they found the right man. It’s well-known what kind of man his father was… a mob boss with connections to the mafia, running the largest underground human trafficking ring in all of US history. Yes, someone like Tony Stark would be capable of planning the biggest heist in history, killing defenseless hostages, and raping a sixteen-year-old boy on television. Unfortunately, not everyone seems to take it all that seriously. May suffered a breakdown when she saw some of the “funny” comments that appeared on Social Media after the mugshot had been published.

> ‘I volunteer as tribute to become his next victim 👀’
> 
> ‘Never thought I’d say this, but I’m jealous of Peter Parker lol’
> 
> ‘You call it rape, but I call it A DREAM COME TRUE 💦’

Her therapist warned May to ignore these sorts of comments, but it’s sheer impossible. She can’t understand how someone can be so stupid and awful. What May doesn’t understand either, is why no Avenger has come forward yet. Did Stark kill all his accomplices?

Feeling anxious, May glances at the living room watch. Maria Hill, the woman who replaced Officer Scott when SHIELD had taken over the case, called an hour ago, announcing her visit. When the bell finally rings, May jumps up as if stung by a bee.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” she blurts out the second she’s opened the door, facing Maria. “What is Stark eating? He needs to buy groceries somewhere, doesn’t he? Maybe you should make sure to send copies of his mugshot to every single store in the US, and-“

May shuts up when her eyes fall on the woman lurking behind Maria. Sharon Carter, a SHIELD agent with specialized training in crisis intervention. May has only seen her once before - when they told her the name of Peter’s rapist. “M-Miss Carter, sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Can we come in?” Maria asks with a forced-looking smile, causing May to swallow thickly. “S-Sure, sorry. C-Can I offer you something to…to…” May’s voice dies when she notices how _grave_ both women look. “W-What happened?”

“Um… how about we sit down and-“

“No. _No!_ He’s not… p-please tell me he- he’s n-not-“ May sways, feeling horribly dizzy. When the room blurs in front of her, Agent Carter is by her side in an instant, guiding her to the sofa. Sobbing, May forces herself to listen to the two agents. Tony Stark responded to the offer. He claimed he’d killed Peter.

Maybe it's because she's in denial, but May can’t help feeling a tad bit relieved when they’ve finished their report. “So, we don’t _know_ if he’s dead,” she states, ignoring the sympathetic look the women exchange. “It’s just a letter and some bullets, right?”

“We’ve already run tests… they have Peter’s, um, blood on it. A few weeks old, at least.”

“S-So? I mean, m-maybe he had a cut or something and Stark just d-dipped them in his…his…”

Agent Carter skids closer, putting her hand on May’s shoulder. “Mrs. Parker… Forensics can tell that these bullets were fired from a 9mm weapon and hit a human body full force. There are no other DNA traces on it, so we have to assume they did in fact… hit your nephew.”

Feeling terribly irritated, May shakes her head. “Th-They probably made a mistake, then.”

“They ran more than one test.”

“But even if they h-hit- I mean, it doesn’t have to mean he’s…d-dead. It’s no proof.”

Maria sighs heavily. “You have to know that it’s not like we will stop doing everything in our power to find Peter and Stark and all the other Avengers, but… as much as I hate to admit it, Stark isn’t stupid. Wrongly admi- _claiming_ that he killed Peter doesn’t do him any favor.”

May then asks to see the letter, only to regret it a few seconds later. As much as she wants to convince herself that Stark is lying in order to make fun of them and take revenge for the nationwide manhunt, May has to accept that it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Moreover, the three bullets… two of them, says Agent Carter, must have penetrated Peter’s body. Even if they hadn’t hit any organs or arteries, the blood loss would have been severe, requiring blood transfusions and surgery.

Ben died because of _one_ bullet.

Peter got hit by _three_.

From afar, she hears them asking if she’s willing to do a short statement at a press conference later in the day. “The news will find out and most certainly proclaim him dead. Peter’s fate has touched so many, May. We need them to not give up and forget. We still need them to do everything they can to help us find Stark and his henchmen. To get justice.”

 _Justice?_ There’s no justice for the man who raped and murdered Peter. Although May knows her statement could be vital, she doubts she’d be able to do it. But then, she agrees, thinking of her brave, strong nephew, who’s managed to speak into a camera, telling her that _he was okay,_ even though he’d gotten raped just minutes before that. _She owes him that much._

When they’re gone, May breaks down, crying harder than ever before. After hours, it seems, she brings herself to call Michelle and Ned. Although she can barely speak, she wants them to know about it before they’ll inevitably see it on the news. As expected, they’re both in denial as well, but eventually, they seem to realize that even if there was a tiny chance that Peter hadn’t died from the bullets, he would have still gotten shot. By a man, who so brutally took away Peter’s innocence, and who couldn’t even resist mocking his victim’s last living relative in the letter reporting his death. 

“B-But… they p-pro-mised they w-would find him,” Michelle sobbed, expressing exactly what May’s feeling. Although it feels wrong, she can’t help blaming the FBI for not trying hard enough.

May feels terribly shitty when she tries to make herself believe that maybe, it’s ‘better’ that way. If Peter was dead, his suffering would be over. Even though it causes May unbelievable pain, she’s kind of relieved at the thought of nobody being able to hurt him anymore.

He’s _safe_ now _._ He’s with Ben and his parents. They’ll be watching over him… and one day, she’ll see him - them - again and ask them all for forgiveness for failing to protect him. She’s not a godly woman, but it’s what she believes in. What she _has to_ believe in, or she’d completely lose her mind. Which would be fatal. No, she has to try and help find Tony Stark...it's the least she can do. And ~~if~~ when they catch him, she'll rip him apart with her own bare hands.

It’s the mere thought of revenge that’s giving May enough strength to step onto the podium at 6:07 pm, her hands fidgeting with a tissue as she addresses the audience.

* * *

Tony can’t imagine how awful the boy must be feeling when the press conference starts. Seeing his aunt will undoubtedly hurt him tremendously, but knowing it’ll be the last time in his life he’ll ever get to see her, Peter begged Tony to let him watch the broadcast.

The teen’s already crying when Fury steps on the podium, going into more detail about Tony’s letter and the bullets. Then, Fury changes places with a blatantly upset and _broken_ May Parker. Peter lets out a choked, heart-wrenching sob and buries his face in his hands, unable to look at his crying aunt.

“H-Hey, um... I want to thank everyone who’s been showing us support and… who’s kept P-Peter in their prayers. He is…he- he w-was the best boy you could have asked for.”

May takes a short break, trying to gather strength to continue on; Tony’s impressed that she’s still standing upright. Peter’s peeking through his fingers, his body shaking from violent sobs.

After taking a few deep, calm breaths, May presses on. “Peter was a kind, brave and strong teenager who had his whole l-life ahead of him. I- I’m convinced that wherever he is, he’s in a better place right now, r-reunited with his parents and his uncle, who... l-loved him so _very_ much.”

At this, Peter jumps up from the couch and dashes for the bathroom, illicitly banging the door shut behind him. When Tony hears him retching, he wrinkles his nose in disgust. May has taken another pause, making heart-wrenching sounds. However, when she continues, her voice is oddly strong.

“Tony Stark has to pay for what he’s done. Th-They all do. They stood there and watched as he hurt my baby and killed D-Debora Hobbs, Roger Wessley, Louis Goodman, Dwayne Foster and Leonora Evergreen. Please, I- I’m asking you to keep sharing his mugshot on Social Media and come forward with any clue or suspicions you may have. Anything can help. Although there’s no real justice for these crimes, we need to make sure they can n-never hurt anyone else ever again. W-We can’t give up until all of them are rotting in jail for the rest of their lives.”

May then stumbles off stage, no doubt breaking down as soon as she’s out the room. Fury takes over again, repeating the same shit he’s said so many times before. After five more minutes, it’s over, so Tony switches the TV off and glances at the bathroom door. Peter hasn’t returned yet… JARVIS tells him he’s curled up into a ball on the floor, crying. Although the boy has violated the rule of closing a door behind him, Tony decides not to be a dick about it for once and give him space.

Why is he feeling so weird? No matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t feel as satisfied and joyful as he expected. Instead, he feels twenty-one again, haunted by the memory of himself cradling his mother’s dead body, sobbing miserably. His mom was the only person Tony ever loved. And the only one who ever truly loved him despite the fucked up shit his father made him do.

Tony will never admit it to anyone, but he suddenly wishes he would have been a little less sadistic in his letter. Peter deserved to be punished, but May Parker didn’t. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s just a poor woman whose last living family was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Knowing the boy would probably burn dinner today, Tony prepares it himself. When he’s done, he knocks at the bathroom door, opening his mouth to-

Wait…Why the fuck is he _knocking_?

Angry with himself, Tony smacks the door open, ignoring Peter’s yelp when the door violently bangs against his shins. “Get up.”

It takes a while until the boy stands. He barely winces when Tony grabs his arm and drags him into the kitchen, shoving him down into one of the chairs. “Eat.” When Peter just stares at the table, his eyes empty and lifeless, Tony repeats his order. “I said, ‘Eat’.”

Tony knows he shouldn’t give him food without warming his cock beforehand, but making an exception _one time_ can’t hurt, can it? It still takes forever until Peter’s taken the first bite of his toast. Watching him chewing slowly and, after minutes, swallowing hard makes Tony terribly uncomfortable, and he hopes that Peter won’t throw up again…

For the first time since he’s gotten him back, Tony doesn’t force himself onto the boy at night. Instead, they simply lie next to each other watching Netflix, but even though Peter’s eyes are fixed on the screen, Tony doubts he’s actually _seeing_ a second of it.

Things are hardly any different the next day. Albeit Peter doesn’t resist Tony fucking him in the morning, he stays oddly _lifeless_ during and, to Tony’s greatest annoyance, doesn’t get his dick up at all, not even when Tony tries to jerk him off.

Later, Peter does what’s required of him in the kitchen and the household, but he doesn’t talk and barely shows any reaction to anything Tony says or does. Even when Tony tells him to work on the Arc Reactor with him, Peter just sits there, staring off into space.

Moreover, he still doesn’t seem to be hungry, so he doesn’t drop down on his knees anymore. The dry bread Tony forces him to eat comes up minutes later, both at lunch and at dinner. When the next day doesn’t make it better either, the irritated man loses his temper and hits Peter for the first time since he’s gotten him back. He’s rewarded with a short, pained yelp, but that’s about it.

Tony can’t help feeling terribly sorry for himself. Yes, he’s always wanted to see the boy broken, but not like _this_. Peter’s no fun like _this_. Tony doesn’t need _this._

On the third day of Peter acting like an empty shell, Tony has to accept that he can’t get him out of this state on his own. Also, time’s running up: it’s only eight more days until the bet ends.

Therefore, Tony jumps over his shadow and invites Natasha and Bruce over, asking them to talk to him. At first, Peter barely shows any sign of recognition when Nat and Bruce come in, but then, his lips slowly curl into a very faint and crestfallen smile. Reluctantly, Tony leaves them alone, impatiently waiting in a beach chair a few yards away from the house.

It takes an hour until Bruce comes out, smiling encouragingly. “He seems a little better.”

“I swear, I didn’t even do anything. In fact, things were going rather well, if you can say that, but then I let him watch the press conference with his aunt and he just… spaced out.”

“Did you honestly think it was a good idea to let him see that?”

“He literally _begged_ me to let him watch.”

Bruce sighs, taking a seat as well. “Well…he’s afraid his aunt will kill herself.”

“And you’re telling me he wasn’t afraid of that before the broadcast? Also, she was a fucking badass up there, so why-“

“I guess seeing her talking about his death and addressing his uncle just… made it seem more _real,_ if you know what I mean.”

“Well, it is what it is. Any idea on how to get him back? _Fast?_ ”

“Hm. Not really, except for treating him with kindness. As I said, he seems better than before, but I can’t tell you whether it’s because he’s coming around or… because he likes Nat and me.”

Fuming, Tony tries to come up with something he could do to get ~~his~~ the ‘old Peter’ back; the boy who might be frightened, sad and stubborn, but who also tries to be good and please Tony somehow.

After thirty more minutes, he decides to end the reunion between Natasha and Peter. He finds them at the table, playing UNO once again. _God bless that fucking game._ Frowning, he watches Nat giving Peter a quick hug when she says goodbye, leaving the two men alone. For a while, neither of them says a word.

When the silence is threatening to suffocate him, Tony fetches the diving goggles and a snorkel from the storeroom and puts them in a bag, telling the boy to get up. Peter looks mostly empty, but also a little frightened when he follows Tony outside the house. “You’ve never been to the other side of the island, have you?”

Wordlessly, Peter shakes his head, squinting against the bright sun. When they arrive at the northernmost point of Bonefish Cay, Tony tells him to get undressed. “You can leave your boxers on, if you want.”

Confusion sparks the boy’s glassy eyes; all the more when Tony pulls the snorkeling gear out of his bag. “Have you ever snorkeled before?”

“…No. Sir.”

Feeling relieved that he’s gotten a reaction out of him, Tony explains what he needs to do. He’s not completely able to hide his smile when Peter puts on the snorkel. _He looks cute with it…_ “Oh, and most importantly, don’t panic. It might be a little scary to breathe despite being underwater… Just concentrate on breathing calmly through your mouth.”

It’s obvious that Peter is convinced he’s going to be tricked, so he wades into the warm water rather reluctantly. It takes a bit of persuasion on Tony’s part to get Peter to put his head underwater. The first three times, he comes up after only a few seconds, apparently on the verge of panicking.

“Relax, kid. Nothing’s going to happen, I promise. I’m right here, okay?” _Guess drowning himself isn't really on his mind right now..._ Eventually, Peter overcomes his fear and keeps his head in the water for almost a minute. When he comes up again and takes out the snorkel, he looks a tiny bit excited. “Seen anything?”

“Y-Yeah, lots of… fish.”

“What kind?”

“Um… n-not sure. But… they were beautiful.”

What _really_ is beautiful is hearing Peter speak again; he’s just said more words than he has in three days. “If you promise me to be… _careful,_ we can swim a few yards. There’s a very small coral reef over there.”

Peter hesitates, but then he nods. He struggles a bit with his left leg, but after a while, he becomes more confident, keeping his head underwater for minutes. Tony doesn’t allow him to dive and makes sure to stay within reach in case Peter tries to drown himself after all.

After about thirty minutes, they swim back to the shore. Peter, showing a light sunburn, seems a lot happier than earlier, albeit a little exhausted. “Lie down and get some rest. I’ll eat dinner at Clint’s today, but you can have my leftovers from lunch if you want.”

When Tony comes back shortly before sunset, he finds the boy lying on the sofa, nose buried in the advanced quantum physics book. _Thank god._ “Grab a cold beer and follow me, please.”

 _…He did not just say_ please _, did he? Jesus… what's wrong with him?_

Peter seems extremely nervous when he follows Tony to the jetty, walking past the boat and plane. From here, they have a fantastic view of the setting sun as it slowly vanishes behind the barely visible outlines of Abaco Island. “There’s nothing more relaxing than sitting here and watching the sun go down.” Tony explains to a horribly confused Peter, ordering him to sit down on the edge of the jetty.

For a while, they watch the sun go down in silence while Tony drinks his beer in small sips, their legs gently touching each other. The sky is of a marvelous red-orange color when Tony finally pulls himself together. “Your aunt is tough.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Peter turning his head, but he keeps his eyes on the horizon. “You didn’t see the whole conference… Trust me, she won’t give up until I’m either dead or in jail, and since that’s not going to happen… well, time will heal.”

It takes almost a minute before the boy answers, his voice shaking. “I know that she’s strong, but… After Uncle Ben had died, I practically had to force her to get out of bed to eat and stuff. She… never said it, but I know that she only managed to pull through because she still had me.”

Strangely enough, Tony suddenly wants to know. “What happened to him?”

“He got… sh-shot when he tried to stop a robber.”

 _Oh. That explains a lot._ It’s tempting to tease Peter about him taking right after his uncle when it comes to playing the hero and ending up getting shot, but for some reason, Tony doesn’t feel like it.

Instead, he mumbles “I see” and offers Peter the beer bottle. Unsurprisingly, he declines, but when Tony tells him that a few sips won’t get him drunk, he reluctantly takes it. Chuckling, Tony watches the boy take a sip, scrunching up his nose at the bitter taste. “Barely anyone likes beer the first time they try it.”

After taking the bottle back, Tony fights an inward battle about addressing the idea he’s come up with. “You know… I’ve been thinking. In case you... regret your decision, we can shoot that video after all and attach a picture of you holding the most recent New York Times or whatever as proof that you’re still alive.”

The teen gapes at him, but it takes a while before he responds. “That’s… very kind of you, sir, but… n-no. Thank you.”

Flabbergasted, Tony stares at him. “No? You sure?”

“Yes. I want- I want her to move on and… not having to worry about me anymore.”

“But I thought you’re afraid she’s going to kill herself?”

“Y-Yeah, but… it’s not like you’ll ever let me go, will you?”

“No. I won’t.”

“S-See? She’d just get her hope up once more, only to never see me again anyways. I just… h-hope she pulls through and finds a way to move on with her life. She _has to._ ” Tears are streaming down Peter’s face when he reaches for the beer bottle once more. Tony gives it to him, thinking about the boy’s words. He’s just made a very mature decision, and as he’s watching Peter taking a few sips, a strange kind of longing overcomes him.

Before he knows it, his lips are on Peter’s and he’s kissing him tenderly.

Taken by surprise, Peter loses his grip on the beer bottle. With a _splash_ , it vanishes in the water beneath their dangling legs, but Tony doesn’t give a shit. His hands come up to gently cup the boy’s face, and almost desperately, Tony licks into Peter’s mouth. Oblivious to the fact that he hardly gets a response, the man focuses on the pleasant feeling spreading through him from head to toe; a feeling he has never felt before. It’s similar to arousal, and yet, completely different. _How weird._

Eventually, Tony shrugs it off. It takes a while until he realizes that he's never kissed Peter so long before, at least not without pounding into him at the same time.

Maybe he should stop.

_… But it feels so nice._

Okay, just a few more seconds.

After all, he’s only doing it because it will surely help him win the stupid bet…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to point out that it's not my intention to try and make you ship Tony and Peter. I mean, I wouldn't judge you if you did ship it despite the dark, unhealthy backgroud (after all, it's just a story), but it's not my intention to romanticize it. And no, Tony won't suddenly stop being a bad guy... that seriously wouldn't make any sense.


	27. Twenty-Six (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter faces an unexpected dilemma when he finds out he has to make a horrifying decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of (brotherly) incest. [You can easily ignore it and pretend it never happened if it bothers you] 
> 
> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

Twenty-Four seconds.

That’s how long Tony has been kissing him now, at least. Tony has his eyes closed, and even though it’s not the first time he’s done that, it feels different. Not as demanding as usual. Peter hates to admit it, but it’s very similar to how Michelle always ~~kisses~~ kissed him, which makes it all the more _disgusting._

When Tony eventually breaks the longest kiss Peter has ever had, he blinks, looking almost bashful and confused. “Um...” Tony’s voice is rasp, so he clears his throat. Is Peter imagining it, or is the man _blushing_? “Maybe we should, um, head back. It's getting dark.”

Wait, so he’s not going to get raped? Why the kiss, then?

To his surprise, Tony doesn’t make a move in bed either, albeit he’s lying next to him rather closely while they’re watching Breaking Bad. Trying to take advantage of his captor’s strangely kind behavior, Peter gathers all his courage to ask a favor after the episode has ended. “Sir, can you…please tell me if MJ posted anything? I-It’s fine if not,” he quickly adds, already regretting his decision to ask. “I just… wonder if she’s doing, um, okay.”

Tony looks neither happy, nor irritated. “I guess I could, but I don’t want you to space out on me again.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise. Please.”

Tony takes his time to give an answer, but eventually, he sighs and grabs his phone. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Thank you, sir.” Anxiously, Peter watches Tony opening Instagram. After looking at the post himself, the man turns the screen around. It’s a collage of four black and white pictures from Midtown’s Valentine’s dance about a month before the heist, showing them making goofy as well as cute faces, smiling happily and kissing. The post has - _holy shit! -_ 125,864 likes and 14,788 comments. The caption is as simple as it is heartbreaking: _“I will always love you.”_

Only when the picture blurs, Peter realizes he’s crying. “S-Sorry, sir, s-sorry, I’m- I’m sorry,” he chokes out, desperately trying to hold himself together and stop sobbing.

“It’s okay, kid. Cry, I understand. Just… don’t freak out. JARVIS, turn off the light.”

Even though Peter lies down, his body won’t stop shaking. After minutes, Tony skids closer, pressing against him from behind. The boy winces, expecting to get hit or raped when Tony’s arm wraps around him tightly, whispering, “It’s all right…Just let it out.”

Although the man isn’t doing anything apart from _cuddling_ and _spooning_ him, Peter’s scared shitless. He’s sobbing even harder now, wondering what the hell Tony’s up to. Apparently… nothing, because minutes later, Tony’s still holding him and his calm, steady breathing indicates that he’s fallen asleep.

_What the fuck?_

Even though Peter’s relieved he’s not getting punished (at least not today), he can’t help being disgusted as well. If he doesn’t want to risk waking Tony up and stirring his wrath, he’d have to fall asleep like this - in the arms of his rapist _._

It’s a miracle he manages to fall asleep.

For whatever reasons, Tony continues to be somewhat nice and careful throughout the next couple of days, both inside and outside the bedroom. The sex barely hurts, and Tony doesn’t really humiliate him apart from having him ask for permission to cum, blatantly pleased that Peter’s finally able to get erections again. He also doesn’t get mad when Peter confesses that he hasn’t come far with his calculations yet. “No problem, I’m out of Palladium anyways. Take your time.”

It’s quite scary, actually… And apparently, too good to be true.

Thirteen days after Peter moved back into Tony’s house, he’s slouching on a comfy chair on the porch, trying to solve a very nasty equation. Completely absorbed in the matter, Peter’s heart skips a beat when he’s addressed by a loud voice. “Is Tony here?”

It’s Loki, his look deep and penetrating as he steps onto the porch.

“N-No, sir. He’s at Mister, um, Rhodey’s house, I think.”

“Hm, all right, thanks.” Loki frowns when he glimpses at Peter’s notepad. “Are you doing _Maths_?”

“K-Kind of. Mr. Stark asked me to, um, help him with something.”

“He did? ... Huh. How are you doing? Bruce told me you’ve had a couple of rough days.”

Peter can’t help blushing. “Um… i-it’s all right, I’m f-fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“That’s good,” Loki smiles. “See you around, I guess.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

However, Loki has barely taken three steps when he comes back again. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but… You should be careful. Steve… he’s been talking non-stop about what, um, you did when he was over for lunch a while ago and… Yesterday, I heard Tony bragging that he’s soon going to prove to all of us that you’re his, um, _willing cock-slut_ or whatever.”

And just like that, Peter’s hope of getting treated more nicely because Tony has actually changed a bit, crumples. _He should have known..._ “A-Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so. Don’t ask me when or how, but… I think it has something to do with what, um, Steve was talking about. I just wanted to let you know in case Tony's trying to pull a trick on you or something. Just refuse him and you’ll be good.”

“Thank you, sir, but… I can’t refuse him.” Peter lowers his gaze, too ashamed to look the other man in the eye. “H-He’s… going to punish me if I do.”

“He said it would be your _choice_ , though, so you can refuse him if you really _want_ to.”

Tears prickle in Peter’s eyes. ”N-No, you don’t understand. E-Even if he didn’t punish me for it, he would be less, um,... nice again. Also, he’d try it again anyways, so I’d rather just… get it over with.”

Sighing deeply, Loki creeps closer, lowering his voice. “Listen, kid… I didn’t want to tell and scare you, but… I already know that it’s a trap. He’s planning to whore you out to the others if you give in.”

At this, Peter’s stomach turns and he almost drops the pencil he’s holding. “W-What?”

“I don’t know any details because I’m not in their ‘inner circle’, so to speak, but apparently, Clint, Steve and Bucky… they’re willing to give Tony _a lot_ in exchange for one night with you. Thing is, they don’t want you if you’re disobedient or unwilling, which is why Tony won’t _force_ you to suck his dick. You doing it without the prospect of punishment is the key point. So, if you don’t want to be passed around, you need to refuse him.”

“But… what if he lied or if you g-got it wrong? W-What if he still punishes me and gives me to them regardless?”

Loki glances nervously over his shoulder; there is nobody to be seen. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll… help you escape. Just… trust me, okay?”

Before Peter can respond, Loki has turned around once more. Trembling all over, Peter watches him hasten away, completely terrified and conflicted. What the fuck is he supposed to do? He doesn’t want to make Tony angry, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be whored out either. He can take Tony, but he can’t possibly take _them._

Loki said he would help him escape… but could Peter trust him? He doesn’t even know him since this was literally the first time they had spoken.

And yet, Loki has always acted differently than the others (hence Bruce and Nat). He kind of stood up for him on the yacht, and walked away when Peter got spanked, saying he didn’t have any interest in watching a rape. And Bruce spoke to him about Peter’s well-being…

What would Loki get out of lying to him? If it was a test, then why didn’t he wait for Peter’s response?

When Tony gets back half an hour later, he acts as nice and cheerful as the last few days. At least now that Peter knows it’s just an act, it finally makes sense. _Tony wants to lure him into a false sense of security…_

At dinner, the boy decides to give it a try and doesn’t drop to his knees for once. As expected, Tony isn’t pleased about it at all. “You _sure_ you aren’t hungry? I don’t think we have any bread, so you’d have to go to bed with an empty stomach,” he emphasizes, sounding sinister.

“Y-Yeah. I’m not, um, feeling so well, sir.”

In bed, Tony’s significantly rougher, not caring about prepping or leaving any bruises. On top of that, he overstimulates Peter a bit, giving up only because the unrestrained boy squirms way too much. “That reminds me: Strange said we can resume your orgasm training next week,” Tony hisses when he finally stops. “So, you better make sure you’ll be good the next couple of days if you don’t want me to overstimulate you for an hour next time.”

Peter once again cries himself to sleep that night. He’s tried so hard to do everything Tony wants, and now he’s about to be handed – _rented -_ to a bunch of horrible men to get gang raped. _It’s not fair._ And even though he hates to admit it, knowing that every single nice thing Tony did in the past two weeks had been an act, _hurts._

He’s hoped so hard and done so much for his life to become at least a tiny bit better, and it’s all been for nothing.

The next day, Peter spends in constant fear, wondering how many days he’ll have left to make up his mind. In his despair, he tries even harder to please Tony and be good.

However, to his utmost horror, Tony announces at 6.30 pm that Peter won’t have to cook dinner today. “We’re joining the others for a barbeque again. I expect you to be at your _best behavior,_ all right?”

On the verge of a panic attack, Peter makes a drastic move. He stumbles over to Tony and reaches for his belt, trying to initiate sex for the first time ever. “H-How about… w-we stay here instead and- P-Please, sir, I can fix you a b-bath and- I want to- to pleasure you.”

Tony seems utterly confused. “Why, what’s going on?”

“N-Nothing, I’m just… h-horny I guess,” Peter lies, daring to rub himself against Tony’s thigh. “B-But of course I won’t expect you to- I mean, unless you want, but… I mean, I- I just want you to f-feel good, sir.”

Apparently smelling a trap, Tony grins nastily. “We can do that later, can’t we? The others are waiting and we shouldn’t disappoint them.”

It’s a miracle that Peter hasn’t started crying yet. _Stay calm. Maybe today is not the day._ “O-Okay, sir.”

Natasha isn’t here this time, but Bruce is. Maybe he’ll tell Tony to stop... Though, will it matter, even? If Peter goes down on his knees, they’ll know he’s obedient and _willing_ , as Loki worded it. Speaking of… the man’s eyes immediately bore into his when they sit down, holding him captive.

Peter’s voice is shaking almost as much as his body when he greets everyone, causing Bruce to look at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

Feeling he’d have to throw up if he answered, Peter only nods curtly. Tony seems a little irritated. “Now don’t be shy, you can tell him what a good boy you’ve been. In fact, we were almost late because he wanted to stay home and _indulge_ me a little instead. Trust me, it wasn’t easy to deny such a _willing_ offer.”

Peter would have given anything if Tony hadn’t said that, because with those words, Bucky and Clint exchange an amused smirk with Steve and Sam, whose expressions Peter can’t see without leaning forward. Whimpering, the boy buries his face in his hands, wincing when Tony tries to move them away gently, but firmly. “Was that uncalled for? Sorry,” he chuckles, tugging harder. “There’s no need to be ashamed and hide your pretty face, _Peter._ We all have desires.”

“And you wonder why Nat refused to join us,” Bruce hisses through clenched teeth, only to flash Peter an encouraging smile when he peeks through his fingers.

“You’re right, I apologize. Is dinner ready?”

A few minutes later, Valkyrie and Wanda serve grilled meat, sausages and vegetables. As expected, Tony promptly tries to get Peter to succumb to the temptation. “What do you want? Chicken, sausages, steak…?”

Although everyone seems to be staring at him, Peter only glances swiftly at Bucky and Clint again. Both men are leaning forward in anticipation, eyes fixed on him. _He can’t do this._ “N-N-Nothing, sir, thank you.” Then, he drops his head, wishing to vanish into thin air.

“ _Nothing?”_ Tony sounds more threatening than ever. “You’ve barely eaten all day, you gotta be hungry.”

“I h-have… a bad stomach ache, sir.”

“Is that so?” Tony growls, not even trying to hide that he doesn’t believe him. “I’m sure it’s not that bad, considering you haven’t said anything all day… A few bites surely won’t hurt you. We’ve counted you in and it would be a shame if we had to throw your serving away.”

“Oh, we won’t throw it away, don’t worry,” Loki butts in, voice cold as ice.

“Who the fuck asked you?” Tony snaps at him, shaking with anger.

“I don’t think you should _force_ Peter to eat if he doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not _forcing_ him. He knows that, don’t you, _slut_?”

“Um… y-yeah, sir. Thank you, but… I- I’m still not hungry. I’m really sorry.“

Tony’s eyes narrow to slits, his face distorting in rage. “All right. You don’t have to eat, but I’m gonna ask you _nicely_ if you can possibly be so kind and give me a blowjob? _Please_.”

Jolts of overpowering fear surge through Peter’s body while he desperately tries to remember how to breathe. This is not what he expected. The way Tony looks at him tells him that it'll cost him dearly if he refuses. Remembering Loki’s words, Peter gives it one last try. “D-Do I _have to_ , sir?”

“No, you don’t have to and I won’t punish you. However, earlier in the house I was under the impression that you _wanted_ to make me feel good… It would make me _very happy_ if you got down on your knees for me.”

In his despair, the boy glances at Loki for support. The man shakes his head ever so slightly, and Peter decides to trust him. Maybe he already has a plan on how to help him escape… and even if not, getting punished is still better than getting gang raped. He has to risk it.

Peter’s voice is barely a whisper when he drops his head. “I d-don’t want to, sir. I’m s-sorry.”

Tony jumps up from his seat, accidentally knocking over his glass of wine. Wincing, Peter covers his head with his arms, but the expected blow doesn’t come. “Touch him and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Completely baffled, Peter lifts his arms, watching Tony storm off. _What the- Whom has he spoken to?_ Apparently, he’s not the only one who’s confused, because almost simultaneously, Wanda and Sam ask what the hell that was about.

“Thor will fill you in,” Loki replies, a smug grin plastered on his face _._ He grabs a plate with barbequed food and looks at Peter expectantly. “Follow me, please.”

A sense of foreboding takes hold of the teen when he hurries to close the gap between them with his slightly limping leg. “S-Sir, what’s- what’s going on?”

“Call me Loki, please,” the man says as soon as they’re out of earshot, ignoring Peter’s question. When Peter realizes they’re going to the Odinson’s house, he stops dead in his tracks and repeats, “What’s going on?

“There’s no need to be afraid, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why are we h-here, then?”

Sighing deeply, Loki looks back at the fireplace, lowering his voice. “Because Tony lost a bet. To _me_ , actually. He bet he would successfully manipulate you into voluntarily sucking his dick in front of us today and I bet you wouldn’t. You didn’t. So, you’re going to live with me for a week.”

Terror-stricken, Peter stumbles back. “S-So you lied to me?”

“I did. But hey, look at the bright side: you’ll be free of him for seven days. Now come on, food’s getting cold.”

Peter has never felt more conflicted in his life. He feels relieved, yet angry and ashamed. Hopeful, yet betrayed and scared. Shuttering, he follows Loki inside the house. “W-What about… Mr. Barnes and the others?”

“About Tony whoring you out to them? For all I know, he doesn’t have any intention to share you with anyone, at least not at the moment. But trust me, they've more than once emphasized that they want you.”

“Why. W-Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I wanted to win this. For my sake, but for your own as well.”

“ _M-My sake?_ No matter what he says, he’s going to make me pay for it. Unless…” Peter swallows thickly. If Loki already lied about the bet, then- “Y-You s-said you’d help me escape. Was that a lie as well?”

“Technically, I did help you escape _Tony_. For a limited amount of time, at least. I never said that I would-”

A burning rage flares up inside the boy, filling his entire body. “You’re just like him,” he spits, clenching his fists. “It’s the exact same bullshit he’s been doing ever since I met him. You gave me false hope on purpose. I- I wouldn’t have refused if I didn’t think you could really get me off this island.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not like Tony and I never will be. I might live up to the name of Loki Laufeyson, the _god of mischief,_ but I’m not a rapist.”

“You’re a _liar_ and manipulator, that’s what it is. And you know what? I’m gonna tell him.”

“… Tony?“

“Yes. If you hadn’t used and tricked me, I would have done it. I’ll tell him he would have won if you’d played fairly.”

Loki stares at him for a few seconds, baffled, before he recollects. “Boy… I get that you hate me, but do you even listen to yourself? You want to tell your kidnapper and _rapist_ that he got tricked, even though you could – and should – give a shit about it and enjoy being one week away from him for once. Fuck… He has really messed with your head, hasn’t he?”

Peter feels as if Loki hit him across the head with a baseball bat. _Fuck, he has a point..._ Desperately, Peter tries to convince Loki – and himself – that he didn’t mean it like that. “N-No, I just- If I tell him that I only refused because I thought he’d whore me out, then he might not punish me.”

“You just admitted that you only refused because you thought I’d help you escape from the island. I mean… if you tell him about me, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell him about that as well.”

Tears spill from Peter’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. “W-Why did you do this?”

“That’s not your concern. But trust me, he deserves to lose this one.” Loki then ends the conversation and Peter knows better than to argue with him any longer. After the man has warmed the food, he hands Peter a plate as well, telling him to eat as much as he wants. “No tricks, this time. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“What about… your brother?”

“You heard Tony - he’d kill us if we touched you.” When Peter looks doubtful, Loki smiles reassuringly. “I’ll make sure nothing’s going to happen to you. Val will sleep at Wanda’s for the next few days, so you can have the second room all to yourself.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Where I always sleep. Next to Thor.”

Peter doesn’t question it at first, but at night, he gasps in shock when he hears _very_ _obvious_ and _explicit_ noises from the room adjacent to his. It can’t be… can it? It goes on for at least half an hour before the utterly disgusted boy pulls the blanket over his head, trying to block it out. _What the fuck is wrong with all these people?_ They are _brothers_ , for Christ’s sake…

Then, Peter feels awful for judging them. It’s not his business and they're not... hurting anyone. And even though he hates Loki for lying and tricking him, he can’t help feeling a little gracious as well. After all, it’s the first time in almost six weeks that he gets to sleep on his own in a comfy bed. And yet, Peter would rather sleep on Nat’s and Bruce’s slightly uncomfortable couch, knowing nobody would be hurting him there.

Here, though? Peter had gone to bed before Thor came home, so he doesn’t have any idea how the blonde man is going to act around him. From all he knows, Thor – or even Loki – could come in any second after all, and-

Shuttering, Peter tries to fall asleep. It’s not easy because he neither manages to block out the noises, nor the fear of Tony taking revenge as soon as the week is over. A very tiny part of him can’t help wishing he’d given in… Lately, Tony hasn’t been so horrible anymore, and even if that had been mainly due to the bet, he would have surely been enormously pleased and happy with Peter right now if he had given in.

Way too soon, Loki wakes him up, bringing him a toothbrush and a fresh towel. “Forgot this yesterday. Bathroom’s free now, if you want to use it.”

Later, at breakfast, Peter stares at the two brothers, still unable to come to terms with what he heard during the night. Determined to act like nothing happened though, he gulps down some porridge, hoping it won’t come up again.

Although Thor does seem immensely interested in him, he leaves Peter alone. In fact, he doesn’t even talk to him and turns on his PS4 to _play Fortnite_ after they finished eating. Since Peter has nothing else to do, he watches him play - until someone knocks on the door.

“It’s Tony,” Loki sighs, glancing out of the window. _Of course, it is._ “Remember what we talked about, kid.”

Anxiously, Peter sits up straight, preparing for the worst. Tony does look mad when he steps into the house, darting an angry, cold glance at the boy. “Here’s the first two,” he snarls at Loki, dropping two bags on the floor. “Feel free to get the others yourself. They’re sitting on my porch.”

_Fuck, how much money did they bet on?_

Then, he walks over to Peter, ordering him to get up.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Loki asks, eyeing Tony suspiciously. “He’s mine for the week and I won’t allow you to hurt him in my house.”

“Don’t shit your pants, sissy. I just want to give him a present.” With a spiteful grin, Tony reaches inside his pocket, taking out-

Peter gasps in shock. _It can’t possibly be what it looks like._ “W-What- what is this, s-sir?”

“It’s a remote controlled dog training collar I ordered a while ago. It will produce a mild electric shock whenever I use this.” Chuckling, Tony holds up a small remote. “I would have brought it over yesterday, but decided to _personalize_ it first to make sure nobody forgets who you belong to.”

Only now Peter notices the words branded into the fabric: ‘ _Property of Tony Stark‘_

He’s still frozen when Tony grabs a fistful of his hair, tilting his head back. “Just a friendly warning: If you try to take it off, your skin is the next thing I’m going to brand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP to everyone who thought there were going to be only nice scenes from now on 😅 However, trust me, there’s a reason for why this is happening the way it is. Also, there's more to the collar than you might think…any guesses? 👀
> 
> 1\. In the next chapter, you'll find out more about Tony’s feelings and Loki’s reasoning  
> 2\. Thor/Loki was a request I got a while ago, in case you're wondering where that was coming from. You can pretend it never happened if it it bothers you


	28. Twenty-Seven (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony tries to find out the truth about Loki's unexpected victory, he gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be a little different (like... it's a lot of _monologue_ lol), but I hope you’ll like it regardless.  
> Warnings: Violence, Mentions of blood
> 
> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

Peter sobs brokenly when Tony fixes the modified collar around his neck, tight enough to make him feel it whenever he swallows, but not enough to choke him. “This has the same lock I used for the kitchen drawers, meaning only I can open them. You’re gonna have to earn getting freed of this,” Tony says, snapping the lock shut. Technically, Peter might be able to cut the collar off, but he won’t; not if he doesn’t want to get branded.

“H-How? I’m sorry, sir, I- AAGH!” The boy’s cry of surprise and _pain_ is music to Tony’s ears.

“Whoops, guess my finger slipped.” With a nasty grin, Tony takes his thumb off the shock button on the remote. “Well, don’t be surprised if you feel it every now and then… after all, I don’t want you to forget about me.”

Ignoring the look of extreme hatred and _regret_ (?) on Peter’s face, Tony walks out the house. “See you next week, _slut._ ”

After a few steps, he notices that Loki is following him. “You said you wouldn’t punish him if he refused!”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that, because you’re wrong. Like always. We agreed that I would _tell him_ I wouldn’t punish him, not that I _actually_ wouldn’t punish him. Don’t forget, letting him _think_ he won’t get punished was the key point. We never agreed that I wouldn’t get to do it if I lost.”

“You’re such a- He fucking tried to apologize!”

“Nah, he just likes to whine and claim that he’s ‘sorry’ in hopes I’ll go easier on him, only to be a little shit again a second later.”

“Look… it won’t change the fact that you lost, but I think he honestly regrets not doing it.”

For a few seconds, Tony hopes that Loki is right. But then, he knows it wouldn’t matter. Peter decided _not_ to do it. He decided to embarrass him in front of the others and he refused Tony even when he asked nicely.

Admittedly, Peter did offer to pleasure him before they left the house, which would have been a step in the right direction – but only, if he’d done it for the right reasons.

Knowing the boy only did it because he apparently already had a bad feeling about the barbeque, showed Tony that it was still _fear_ that animated him; not a wish for making Tony actually feel good, and most certainly, not some sort of affection he’d grown for the man. And what’s worse is that the fear wasn’t even enough to make him give in.

No, Peter is still disobedient and he still hates him with all his guts, which hurts more than Tony wants to admit. And the fact that it hurts, is really, really bad.

Nothing Peter does _should_ even be able to hurt him; and it _wouldn’t_ if Tony cared about him as little as he always insisted. And yet, it did. It _does._ No matter how much Tony despises himself for it.

As soon as Loki has grabbed the last bag sitting on Tony’s porch, the man goes inside and shuts the door. “JARVIS, active the speakers.”

For the first few minutes, there’s nothing to be heard other than something that sounds like crying, but then-

_“Are you okay?”_

_“F-Fuck off!”_

Tony raises his brows. Did Peter actually tell Loki to _fuck off?_ Wow.

_“Hey, I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t think he’d-”_

_“I told you h-he’d punish me. I_ told _you!”_

_“I know. I’m sorry.”_

Tony waits a few more seconds, but when Peter doesn’t respond, he presses down on the shock button, smirking when the boy gasps and whimpers in pain. It really was a good idea to order one of these a few weeks ago… Tony only had to exchange the bark volume sensor with an actual speaker and increase the sensitivity of the shocks; a very easy task for an engineer.

The thing is, that Tony doesn’t trust Loki anymore. His gut feeling tells him that something is wrong, but he can’t quite grasp _what_ , so Tony decided to turn Peter into a sort of “Trojan”, in the hopes that it will help him shed some light on the mystery.

~~And yes, maybe he just doesn’t want to accept his defeat.~~

For the next couple of hours, the only thing Tony can hear is Peter’s quiet breathing or the occasional sobbing Tony has gotten used to by now. At lunch, Loki asks him if he wants to eat, but Peter declines.

_“If you change your mind, let me know, okay? Is there anything else I can get you? A book, maybe, or… do you want to watch TV?”_

_“No.”_

For a second, Tony feels anxious. What if the boy falls back into the state he was in after he’d seen his aunt? Tony had sworn himself to never let that happen again. Not after-

Inevitably, memories of the fatal sunset kiss flash in front of Tony’s eyes, his stomach tingling weirdly once more. It’s not the first time it happens… in fact, it happens every single time Tony reminisces about it ~~(which is quite frequently)~~ , and no matter how often the man has tried to convince himself that there’s _nothing_ alarming about it, he knows that _everything_ is _._

Because no kiss has ever made Tony feel that way before.

From a purely scientific point of view, it’s easily explained. Kissing releases hormones like oxytocin, dopamine or serotonin, resulting in a tingly, bubbly and jittery feeling. The adrenaline increases the heart rate, normally intended to put the human body into a “ready-to-go” state for fucking, but… with Peter, it was more than that… and _different_.

And even worse is that it happened a couple more times after that; at times, when Tony wasn’t even kissing – or fucking – Peter at all. Solely thinking about it sometimes brings the feeling back. It’s almost as if-

_Oh god. Not again._

Tony has never – _NEVER -_ had a “crush” or “romantic feelings” for anyone before; not for Steve - the first (and only) person Tony has ever had some sort of “relationship” with that wasn’t purely sexual - and most certainly not for a fucking little _bitch_ who’s only alive for the lone purpose of getting used by Tony however he pleases. Tony’s not the kind of guy who believes in any of those things described in cheesy as fuck romance novels or shown in cringe-worthy movies.

Love is for the _weak_ …a lousy fairytale made up by pathetic losers who’re afraid of dying alone.

Showing such weakness towards anyone, let alone his kidnap victim, is nothing Tony can ever allow to happen. It would be so goddamn fucked up and embarrassing… He is the kidnapper, for Christ’s sake, not the dependent hostage developing positive feelings towards the person holding them captive.

Whatever ~~is happening~~ happened ~~has to stop~~ can never happen again.

Angry for pondering about all of this once more, Tony presses the shock button, relieved to feel some sort of satisfaction at the boy’s whining. Knowing that he still gets turned on by the prospect of causing Peter pain or anxiety is very comforting indeed.

For dinner, Peter agrees to eat with the Odinson brothers, but he stays completely quiet during. Since Loki and Thor chat in Norwegian, Tony starts to feel bored rather soon, so he decides to spice things up. During the next minute, he presses the button a bunch of times, not even stopping when Peter’s wheezing and groaning finally attracts the brothers’ attention.

_“Is he shocking you again?”_

_“Yes,"_ Peter hisses, clearly speaking through clenched teeth.

 _“That’s so hot,”_ Thor mumbles, causing Tony to chuckle. _It is._

Ignoring his brother, Loki offers to help. _“I can maybe try to put an isolator between your skin and the collar… like, a piece of paper or plastic or something. I know you don’t believe me, but I really feel bad. I trusted him not to punish you.”_

 _“I really wish you’d stop acting like you’re giving a shit,”_ Peter snaps, _“If you hadn’t lied to me just to get some more money, I wouldn’t even be in this situation.”_ … Lied about… what?

 _“This wasn’t just about the money,”_ Loki growls, sounding rather angry. “ _You should know that_ _I spent three years in prison thanks to Tony’s arrogance. I told him a million times that his plan had immense flaws and would fail, but he never listened. Unsurprisingly, I turned out to be right, though it wasn’t Tony who had to pay for it, but me. Tony always thinks he knows it all, and it’s getting on my nerves. Truth be told, the bet would have ended two weeks ago, but since Tony didn’t have you where he wanted, he came up with some bullshit to wriggle his way out of it and insisted on extending the bet for two more weeks. That’s when I decided to beat him at his own game, and he clearly underestimated me once more. It’s truly unfortunate it had to happen at your expense, but you saw how he tried to intimidate you. He wasn’t playing fair either.”_

It takes Tony a few seconds to realize that he hasn’t heard Peter’s response, if there even was any. His mind is completely blown. Loki blaming him for going to prison is old news, but him being vengeful about it still is both surprising and unfortunate. The real stunner though, is the last part… Why did Loki say that Tony hadn’t been playing fair ‘either’ and what did he mean with ‘beating Tony at his own game’?

As furious as Tony is about Loki saying all these things, he knows he can’t blow his cover just yet. There’s clearly something wrong, just like he suspected. Granted, he could wait and torture Peter to get it out of him since he obviously knows something, but Tony rather wants to hear the whole, unadorned truth.

Unfortunately, they’re not talking about it anymore, so Tony decides to take it a step further. After a bit of wiring, he connects the remote to a simple timer, setting it to send pulses every twenty minutes from 11 pm onwards. Now he just has to wait it out… Hopefully, the boy will give in sooner than the battery of the collar does.

In the morning, Peter is a _mess_. Terribly sleep-depraved, he cries and sobs all breakfast, causing Loki to offer to talk to Tony again.

 _“D-Don’t bother. He’s only gonna g-get off on my suffering.”_ Wow. Albeit it’s true, Tony does not condone Peter talking about him like that. That’s going to require some severe punishment. _“I’m just- I’m just gonna tell him the truth.”_ Then again, maybe it doesn’t have to be that severe after all.

 _“If you want him to know that you wanted me to help you escape, then sure, tell him.” …_ WHAT?

_“I don’t fucking care anymore. At least he’ll be mad at me for the right reasons, then. Also, I think he cares more about you tricking him than about me falling for your lies.”_

Wait, so… Peter not only knew about the bet, but he also decided to deny Tony because Loki said he’d help him escape? What. the. actual. fuck _._ Oh, he’s going to kill the both of them.

_“Look, kid… if I could help you, I would, but-”_

_“Lemme guess? ‘You can’t’? Why? The FBI offered you a great deal… you and your brother would be safe and- and free!”_

_“We wouldn’t. Tony has too many loyal friends here, to whom my brother belongs. And… he knows enough to bring each and every one of us a lot of trouble. Sorry.”_

At first, Peter just cries. But then, he makes a suggestion that lets Tony’s hair stand on end. _“A-And if you… k-killed me? In a way that… won’t h-hurt too much?”_

Loki seems as shocked as Tony because he doesn’t respond right away. As much as Tony wants to be nothing but furious about the request, he can’t help feeling terribly awful. And… scared. Though Peter asked Tony to kill him back then in the submarine as well, hearing it after everything that happened lately, is oddly upsetting.

_“Jesus, kid… Do you really want to die?”_

_“N-Not really, but… i-if I have to choose between d-death and- and him, then y-yeah.”_

_“No, I’m not… gonna murder an innocent child. Besides, Tony would kill me.”_

_“Then act like i-it was an accident or s-suicide or… j-just f-fucking kill him as w-well if you hate him anyways and.... t-tell everyone that I d-did it.”_ In a second, all of Tony’s sadness is replaced by hatred. And it gets even worse. _“Please, I- I’ll do anything. Y-You’re my only hope. I… I know I c-can’t pay you or anything, but… I- I can… s-sleep with you if you w-want.”_

_“Wait, what? Are you crazy? I told you, I’m not a fucking rapist.”_

_“It won’t be r-rape if I offer it.”_

_“It would. And now, please stop, I will neither help, nor kill you. Nobody here will, just like nobody will kill or rat Tony out.”_

Tony barely hears Peter’s desperate sobbing anymore. Seething, he takes his gun from the safe and hurries over to Steve’s and Bucky’s house. He quickly tells them what he heard and asks their assistance. A few minutes later, Tony bangs his fist against Loki’s door, raging with fury.

“What do you-“ Alarmed, Loki breaks off, looking at the guns in their hands. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s Peter?” Tony snarls, forcing his way into the house, glancing around for the boy.

“He’s trying to sleep since you tortured him all night. What is-“

“Bucky, get him, please. And you,” – He points the gun at Loki – “Sit the fuck down.”

To Loki’s own luck, he doesn’t try to argue. Wary, he watches Tony closely, but when Bucky drags a terrified Peter into the room, he darts a quick glance at him. The boy keens as soon as he spots Tony with the weapon, and when he looks at Loki in panic, Tony decides to fuck with them.

“So, Peter… I hear you offered your ass to Loki in exchange for your own - as well as _my_ – death?”

Loki’s gasp is drowned out by Peter’s desperate keening. He doesn’t even try to lie, seemingly convinced Loki has ratted him out. “O-Oh god, p-please, sir, I… I…“ For the first time ever, the boy seems completely lost for words, as if knowing that a lame apology won’t get him out of this one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki snarls, trying to shut Peter up with a warning glance.

“Don’t even try, Loki. I know everything.” When the man looks doubtful still, Tony grins. “I guess you can say that I _decided to beat you at your own game._ ”

Now, it’s Loki’s turn to look at Peter in fear and confusion. It’s hilarious to see them racking their brains over whom of them betrayed the other. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As much fun as dragging this out would be, Tony doesn’t have the patience for it today. Wordlessly, he takes out his phone and orders JARVIS to play the first few seconds from the recording.

 _“Are you okay?”_ \- _“F-Fuck off!”_.

He then pauses it, looking at the two challengingly. Whereas Peter trembles in fear, Loki seethes with rage. “You bugged my fucking house?”

“What gives you that idea?” Tony asks in mock outrage. “I would never bug somebody else’s property. I did, however, bug my own.”

It takes them a few moments, but then their eyes widen in shock. Instinctively, Peter touches the collar around his neck, whereas Loki growls, “You fucking asshole.”

“Careful,” Tony hisses, planting himself in front of the younger man. “You said a few very mean things about me, and worst of all, tried to outsmart me. I don’t like being tricked and lied to. So, unless you want me to chop off one of your hands, you’re gonna give me back my money. And don’t even think about arguing that we don’t know what Peter would have done if you hadn’t told him about the bet beforehand.”

“I w-would have done it,” Peter squeaks. “I s-swear, sir.”

“Did I allow you to speak?” Tony spits, completely done with his bullshit. “Bucky, take him over to the trees. I want him to be ready when I’m done here.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Loki asks as he watches Bucky dragging Peter out of the house.

“That’s not your concern.”

“He’s… telling the truth, though. He kept on saying he would do it until I, um, told him you’d… whore him out to Bucky, Steve and Clint if he acted like a willing and obedient slut. I only lied to him about helping him escape because he was scared that you’d still give him to them as a punishment.”

“You did _what?_ ” And just like that, it all falls into place. Why Peter was so absent and… weird even the day before the barbeque. And why he was so excessively frightened.

What does it change, though? Tony would have won, but he wouldn’t have found out what Peter is willing to do in order to escape him by whatever means. In fact, he should almost be thankful. Not that he would tell Loki that, of course. 

Before Loki can respond, Thor comes in, eyes widening in surprise. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Tell him, Steve. And it would be awesome if you could take the money bags back to my house.”

“Sure thing, Tones.”

With a last, hateful glance at Loki, Tony storms off. At the south end of the island, he finds Peter tied up between two palm trees, arms widely spread and stretched. Just like requested, he’s wearing nothing but the boxers Tony has given him the day of the barbeque, exposing his back to the blazing sun. “Thanks, Bucky. Leave us alone. Please.”

Although it’s only 10 am, it’s quite hot already. Nevertheless, Peter is shaking so terribly that if it wasn’t for the ropes around his wrists, he probably wouldn’t be able to stand. “You know… Loki just gave me a nice idea for a punishment. I’m sure Steve, Bucky and Clint would _love_ to have their way with you. Considering you offered yourself to Loki, it would be an appropriate punishment, don’t you think?”

Sobbing, Peter bows his head. “W-Whatever y-you see fit, s-sir.”

 _Wait, what?_ “That’s it? No pleading or begging me to spare you?”

“I- I know that I... m-messed up and d-deserve to be punished.”

“Even though the fear of me giving you to them was the main reason why you refused me?”

“Y-Yes. I hope y-you won’t but… I- I just… I j-just want you t-to forgive me. P-Please.”

 _Fuck._ Tony’s getting weak, he can feel it. Thing is...He tried it with torture and fear, and he tried it with kindness. Nothing has worked so far. Although he’s gotten close, in the end, being close isn’t enough.

Peter still wants to escape – or die. And he still wants Tony ratted out – or dead.

There’s only one more chance to truly make Peter ~~his~~ develop Stockholm Syndrome, and Tony’s going to have to try a different approach. But first, the kid needs to be punished again; it’s inevitable.

“All right. Here’s the deal: Today’s the 18th of May. If by the end of the month you manage to convince me that you’re actually sorry about every single thing you said in the Odinson house, I’ll forgive you. If not, I’ll officially give up on making you my personal slave, which means that everyone will be free to use you whenever, and however they please. This will be your last chance, kid. And I’m warning you: don’t pull any fucking tricks on me.”

It’s odd; although the boy is clearly scared, he almost looks relieved as well. “O-Okay sir, thank you, thank you so much.”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t get punished.”

“I- I know.”

More pleased than he’d ever admit, Tony slowly unloops the heavy leather belt from his shorts to inflict the punishment he’s planned all along, hoping the boy won’t get any permanent scars from this…he has far too many already. “I honestly hope this will be the last time I’m going to have to punish you so severely.”

“I- I hope so t-too, sir,” Peter whimpers, closing his eyes in fear. Tony folds the belt once and then moves behind the tied-up teenager.

“Brace yourself,” Tony warns, and after waiting a few more seconds, he lets the belt come down on Peter’s back as harshly as possibly.

With a heart-piercing scream, the boy’s carried off his feet as his whole body gets thrown forward, hanging by the ropes around his wrists. “That was for embarrassing me in front of my friends. And this-“ Tony serves the second blow. “is for lying to me. You spoke ill of me” – Third blow – “And disrespected me.” After the fourth lash, Tony changes his grip on the belt and takes a short break.

There are already visible, angrily red streaks on Peter’s back that will no doubt form into welts and bruises soon. Tony is kind of proud when Peter makes use of the break to get back on his feet, standing more or less upright again. “Do you think you can take five more?”

It’s very clear that he doesn’t think he can, and yet, the boy forces himself to choke out, “I- I’ll be able to- to take as m-many as you want, s-sir.”

Tony almost feels bad for him when he raises his arm. “I’m afraid this will hurt a little more…”

By the sound of Peter’s deafening scream, it does. The harsh lash with the buckle was enough to tear Peter’s skin. “This was for asking Loki to help you escape. And this-“ - WHAM – “for asking him to rat me out…as well as asking him to ” – WHAM – “kill you,” – WHAM – “and kill me!”

Blood runs down the fine gashes on Peter’s back when Tony flogs him for the ninth and last time. “And this was for offering yourself to Loki like a cheap whore.”

The teen hangs limply in the ropes, sobbing agonizingly. Withstanding the sudden, _troubling_ urge to soothe and comfort him, Tony puts his belt back on, panting slightly. He should really take a break from Peter to cool off and… come to his senses again. _Because this has to stop once and for all._

“I’ll bring you some water and something for your head. Sun’s blazing… don’t want you to get a sun-stroke and die from a cerebral edema. At dusk, I’ll untie you and bring you back to Loki.”

It takes a while before Peter is capable of speaking, his voice rasp from all the screaming and crying. “W-Why…why won’t you t-take me… h-home?”

Tony feels as if struck by lightning, the word ‘home’ roaring through his mind like a broken record. _Pull yourFUCKINGself together._ “Because… you’re of no use to me with a bruised back and the severe sunburn you’ll get.”

Then, he turns around and storms off, not knowing whom he despises more - the boy or himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, yeah, I really needed Peter to “fuck up” and give Tony a reason for punishing him again. You'll see why. Also, in case you’re confused about Tony’s feelings: that’s totally on purpose because it is a confusing situation. ~~(or I’m just a shitty writer 😂)~~  
>  If anyone cares about the timeline: The heist began on 25th of March and ended on 29th. They arrived at the island around five days later. Now, it's May, 16-18th.  
> 


	29. Twenty-Eight (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's punishments and manipulations take a heavy toll on Peter's mental health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

For once, Peter is less mad at Tony than he is at himself. Sure, he couldn’t have possibly known the collar was bugged, but why in the world did he think it was a good idea to offer himself to Loki and ask him to kill not only Peter, but _Tony_ as well? Loki could have easily told Tony about the request, so what does it matter how the man found out about it?

Peter can’t help feeling that he deserved this. Even more so, he feels oddly grateful that Tony didn’t throw him into the lion’s den to get gangraped right away. Physical scars will heal, eventually; mental ones, however, can stay forever. _As if he didn’t have enough of both already…_

Right now, all Peter cares about is doing everything in his power to avoid angering Tony ever again. _For real, this time._

No more fighting. No more resisting. No more pleading.

 _‘Give him what he wants’…_ Natasha has been right. For two weeks, Tony has been almost ‘nice’ to him. Hence the raping, but Peter knows, if he doesn’t want to suffer more than what is necessary - no, what _Tony considers_ necessary - he will finally have to get over it.

No more false pride. No more shame. No more _hope._

It’s not like anyone on this fucking island cares about him anyway. He’s a prisoner. A slave. His feelings don’t matter. Nobody’s going to help or save him. Not even Nat cares enough to put him out of his misery...

It’s up to Peter to try and ‘save’ himself by doing everything he can to make his life as good as possible given the circumstances. And if it hadn’t been for Loki, he might already have succeeded to a certain extent.

 _What happened, happened._ From now on, he’s going to be nothing but good for Tony.

When Tony returns with a bottle of water, Peter doesn’t try to plead with him. If the man thought he deserved to be freed, he would release him. After Tony helped him drink, Peter croaks out a ‘Thank you, sir’, repeating it when the man puts a reverse snapback on his head.

Then, Tony grabs his chin. “If you _really_ think you can’t take it anymore, call for me. I’ll hear it over the collar, but don’t try to fool me, all right? You’ll get water once an hour. If you have to piss, just go for it.”

Peter doesn’t struggle when Tony yanks the boxers from his body before walking away, leaving him completely exposed. He’s still going to get tan lines around his wrists and neck, so the punishment will still have a _lasting impression_ on his skin, as Tony would call it.

For whatever reason, Peter suddenly has to chuckle at the thought, but it doesn’t take long until he bursts into tears. He just… can’t take it anymore. All of this… if only Tony would painlessly kill him if he angered him enough.

It doesn’t take long until it’s getting unbelievably hard to stand on his trembling legs. Not only is he weak from the flogging and the sun beating down relentlessly onto his probably bleeding back, he’s also terribly sleep-depraved. How late is it? Tony came just after they had breakfast… Judging by the shadows of the trees surrounding him it can’t even be noon yet. Which means he’ll probably have to be here for at least 8 or 9 more hours, because calling for Tony and giving up is not an option.

He has to stay strong and prove that he knows he deserves this, and that he _is_ sorry about what happened.

It’s not Tony who brings him water every hour. Instead, he sends Steve, Bucky and Clint over – the _lions_ who can’t seem to wait to dig their claws into him. They don’t do it; though. _Not yet._ For now, the only part they touch is Peter’s head when they press the bottle to his lips to help him drink.

The third time they come, they bring Sam and _Thor_ along. Unable to bear seeing their hungry eyes wandering all over his naked body, Peter closes his lids, wishing he could cover his ears as well. By the sounds coming from them, it’s obvious what they are doing, and while he’s fighting down the urge to throw up, Peter makes a final decision: He’d rather let Tony rape him for all eternity than let these punks get their hands on him as well. It’s bad enough already that Tony allowed Steve and Bucky to abuse him at the bank.

After four hours of being tied up, the sun appears in Peter’s vision, meaning it’s now his front that’s about to get scorched. Eventually, his legs give in, dooming his aching wrists to bear all his weight since he can’t get down far enough to kneel.

Just when it feels like his arms are about to get ripped off of his body, Steve returns, with Tony, this time. They fiddle with the ropes wrapped around the trees, and Peter cries in relief when they’re loosened, allowing him to kneel after all. “Th-Thank you, sir.”

“Want to thank me properly?” Tony asks, moving in front of him. His crotch is at the same level as Peter’s eyes, so the boy doesn’t even have to think twice. _No more shame._ _Give him what he wants._ “O-Of course, I can- May I p-please suck your cock, sir?”

Tony smirks satisfied, though his eyes remain cold. He unbuttons his pants, and the second Peter obediently opens his mouth, he shoves his cock down his throat. Even though Peter tries to be somewhat active, Tony barely gives him any chance to. Instead, he seems content with fucking his mouth, so Peter mostly concentrates on containing his gag reflex. When it’s over, the man lets him drink again and turns the snapback around, allowing Peter to lower his head to get some sort of protection for his face. Sometime during the next couple of hours, the boy falls asleep / passes out from the exhaustion and the pain, only waking up for the minute or two it takes Tony to get some water into him.

Hence the throbbing pain on his back, Peter’s barely feeling anything anymore when Tony and Thor cut him loose at dusk. His arms and legs are completely numb, but Thor grabs him in time, scooping him up as if he weighed nothing. Peter thinks he must have fallen asleep again, because suddenly, he’s lying face down on a soft surface he dimly recognizes as Valkyrie’s bed.

“Strange is going to take care of your wounds and the sunburn,” Tony says, crouching down. “While you’re here, I want you to reflect about… all of this. You’re not allowed to get out of this room unless it’s the bathroom and you’re going to be completely silent. Thor’s going to make sure you follow the rules. And don’t forget, I hear everything that’s going on in here. If you open your mouth for anything other than eating or drinking, you’ll get shocked. Do you understand?”

Feeling too weak to speak, Peter only nods. Without another word, Tony leaves, changing places with Dr. Strange. Peter dully wonders how often the former doctor has had to patch him up so far, but he can’t really remember. Was it four times or five times?

Loki comes in a few minutes after Strange left, his trembling hand holding a bar of chocolate. “Um… you’re probably hungry, so I thought you might want this?”

Thor raises his brows but keeps quiet, making Peter question whether Tony would approve of him eating chocolate. He probably shouldn’t risk it. Also, for all he knows, it could be a test… Remembering that he’s not allowed to talk, he shakes his head before turning around as much as his aching back allows, refusing to look at the two men any longer. “All right, I’ll just… leave it here in case you get, um, hungry later.”

But Peter doesn’t dare to touch it. Over the course of the next couple of days, the boy only sees Loki or Thor when they bring him something to eat or when he’s on his way to the bathroom. By scribbling on a piece of paper, Loki tells him that Tony has forbidden them to give him anything to pass time with, forcing Peter to actually rethink every decision he has ever made since crossing paths with Tony. He has already sworn to himself on the yacht that he would never do anything stupid ever again, and yet, here he is. At least, he's not tied up for days this time, deprived of almost all his senses and forced to shit himself…

 _The punishment could have been worse._ He should really consider showing Tony his gratitude when he’s back ~~home~~ in his house.

After the fourth night, Loki silently hands him another paper. _“In case you ever manage to get your hands on the boat keys: the nearest populated island is 5 miles SW from here. I truly am sorry.”_ A second later, the paper is snatched away from him and Loki raises his voice. “Morning. I’ll take you back to Tony today.”

For a few seconds, Peter stares at him, unable to comprehend what just happened. Although he’s seen islands on the horizon before, he wouldn’t have expected to be only 5 miles from actual civilization. From people who could _help him._ Sure, it’s too far for him to swim, but… _holy shit._

Why would Loki tell him this? Is he going to keep an eye on the boat in case Peter ever managed to flee, giving him and Thor enough time to-

 _No._ He can’t start thinking about it. No, no, no, just… _NO_. How would he even get the keys? They’re always in Tony’s safe. Not to mention that Peter has no idea how to drive a boat and how to get away with a fucking GPS tracker planted inside his-

_Oh god, he’s totally thinking about it._

At Tony’s house, Loki knocks, strutting away after a quick “Bye, Peter.” A second later, the door opens. “Come in.” Tony keeps a straight face when Peter shyly glances up at him, not daring to speak. “How’s your back?“

It feels weird to use his voice after almost five days of silence; it’s rough from disuse. “Better, sir.”

“Sunburn?”

“Um…my skin p-peeled a bit, but… I think it stopped.”

Poker-faced, Tony hands Peter a paper listing various chores and meals. “Your tasks for the day. I want lunch to be ready at 1:30, dinner at 7:00. Whenever you don’t have any work to do, you are to stay in the bedroom.”

Confused, Peter watches Tony sit down on the couch with his laptop. This is rather unexpected… in a positive kind of way. Feeling a tad bit relieved, Peter starts cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, taking a break only when it’s time to cook.

Tony hasn’t said anything to him since the morning, but when Peter drops down on his knees as soon as he’s sat down the plates, the man breaks his silence. “Guess I forgot to say that you shouldn’t bother preparing more than one meal from now on. There’s plenty of bread in the cupboard. A boy your age needs at least 2.500 calories a day, which equals to around thirty slices.”

 _He can’t be fucking serious…_ “Um, sir, I am truly sorry for… b-betraying and disappointing you. I… want to be good for you again… please.”

Ignoring him completely, Tony starts to eat, scrolling through some science magazine on his tablet. Almost desperately, Peter asks if there was anything else he could do, but when it doesn’t evoke any response either, he gives up. How in the world is he supposed to eat _thirty_ slices of dry bread every day? When he opens the cupboards Tony has pointed at, he almost cries, feeling nauseated already. There are around twenty packs of bread crammed into it, each containing around 20 slices.

He knows he shouldn’t be so ungrateful because so many people all around the world have _nothing_ to eat, and yet, Peter still can’t help sobbing when he sits down at the table with ten slices of untoasted bread and a glass of water.

Finally, Tony looks at him, eyes sparkling with anger. “I thought I told you to stay in the bedroom if you don’t have any work to do? Is this work?”

“Um… n-no, but-“

“Then get the fuck out of my sight.”

“O-Oh, s-sorry, sir.” As quickly as possible, Peter jumps up from the chair and retreats to the bedroom, fresh tears running down his cheeks. _This was unexpectedly harsh._

It takes him an hour to eat his sparse meal. Struggling to resist the urge to retch, Peter then finishes the rest of his chores before retreating to the bedroom once more, crying silently. Is it shameful to admit that he’s hoped things would be like they were before the whole Loki debacle? In the evening, he only prepares one serving, knowing it has no sense trying to make Tony change his mind. In order to wash down the bread, Peter drinks half a gallon of water, feeling disgustingly bloated afterwards. When Tony joins him in the bedroom a few hours later, he wordlessly lies down and turns around. Tensed up, Peter waits for Tony to strike – but he doesn’t. Not knowing whether he should be relieved or worried about it, the boy struggles to fall asleep.

The next day, Tony still acts distant and cold. A few hours after lunch, the man visits Peter in the bedroom. Without any explanation, Tony ties something to the bed frame before fastening the end of it to Peter’s collar, restricting his movements tremendously. Not daring to try and get it off, Peter’s forced to stay on the bed, struggling to ignore the panic building up in him. It’s bad enough that the collar is so tight, but now he can barely move without getting choked. It takes hours until Tony comes back, but apart from freeing him from the leash and ordering him to cook dinner, he treats the boy as if he weren’t even there.

A day later, Peter makes another attempt at finding out what Tony wants from him. As soon as he’s served him breakfast, he drops to his knees, bowing his head submissively. “Can I do anything, sir, or… can you please tell me what you want me to do?”

As Tony stays silent, Peter risks a glance. Although he could have sworn the man looked at him a second ago, he’s now staring at his eggs, eyes oddly empty. Crying, Peter gets up and flees into the bedroom, not even knowing what he’s so devastated about.

Over the course of the next few days, nothing really changes. There are days when Tony doesn’t speak to him _at all_ , only handing him a list with chores and desired dishes. Peter is somewhat relieved when the list is long because it gives him something to do, at least. Every other minute he’s forced to stay in the bedroom without any sort of entertainment, often leashed up like a dog. Peter’s ashamed to admit it, but he sometimes wishes Tony would yell at or insult him, just so he wouldn’t feel so lonely all the time. Not even JARVIS responds to him anymore… And not only that - the collar also shocks him whenever Peter tries to talk to the AI.

What is Tony’s intention? Isolate him until Peter does _what, exactly_? He’s already shown his willingness to do whatever Tony wants, what else can he do?

But Tony seems to have lost all interest in him. He neither lets Peter work with him anymore, nor does he watch Netflix or movies with him. On top of it, he hasn’t touched him once since getting him back. It’s not that Peter _wants_ to get abused, but… he doesn’t want _this_ either. Sure, there was a time when Peter thought he’d rather be tied up and ignored for the rest of his life than getting raped ever again, but this is slowly driving him insane.

On the evening of May 28th, Tony leaves the house just after dinner. Peter eventually falls asleep out of sheer boredom, waking up hours later, drenched in sweat. His neck hurts from the tight leash and he’s shaking all over, still able to feel dirty hands groping every inch of body. The nightmares have been getting worse, which shouldn’t come as a surprise. Time’s running up… Peter doesn’t even have 72 more hours to convince Tony how sorry he is, but how in the world is he supposed to do that if the man doesn’t even talk to-

 _Wait._ Feeling like he just had an epiphany, Peter sits up as straight as the leash will allow. What if… this isn’t just about proving that he’s _sorry_?

What if it’s about proving that he’s finally willing to _become Tony’s slave_? Maybe Tony wants him to… _initiate sex_ , but not in exchange for food or anything else… _Oh god._ Why hasn’t he thought of that before? Tony playing another one of his wicked manipulative games is the only plausible explanation, or he could have just handed Peter off to his asshole friends straight away. _He might still be interested in him…_

Although the last thing Peter wants is to encourage his captor to rape him again, he decides to give it a try. The worst that can happen is that it won’t make things better and he gets raped regardless. If he’s right, however, Tony might not give up on him just yet. And maybe, he’ll be gentler again and treat him like he did before the bet; for some reason, Peter doesn’t believe that Tony was only nice to him because he wanted to win…

Too nervous to fall asleep again, Peter stays awake until Tony finally comes home. As soon as he’s freed him from the leash and lays down, the boy gathers all his courage and moves closer, his shaking hand resting on the waistband of Tony’s sleeping boxers. “G-Good evening, sir.”

Utterly confused, the man glances at Peter’s hand slowly moving towards his crotch. “I- I was hoping you’d… let me make you feel good before you sleep.”

Even though Tony’s lack of reaction makes him anxious, Peter doesn’t draw his hand back. Instead, he - very cautiously – starts palming the man’s cock, relieved when it responds to his touch almost immediately. “Why.”

It’s less of a question than a statement. “B-Because I am really sorry about… what I did. I’m begging you to forgive me, sir. I know I f-fucked up. Please give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you ever again. I’ll be… a good slave for you, sir.”

 _Was that too much?_ It’s impossible to read Tony’s expression. “Well, the month isn’t over yet. I’ll make my decision on Thursday. You can, however, pleasure me.”

Relieved about the man talking to him again, Peter lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank you, sir. May I, um, s-suck you off?”

At this, Tony fails at completely hiding his smirk. “I’m thinking… a _good slave_ should appreciate its master, don’t you think? So, how about you jerk me off instead and tell me what you like about me?”

 _Oh. god._ “A-About you as a person?”

“No, about me as a _tadpole_ ,” Tony hisses, promptly irritated. “Yes, me as a _person_. I’m warning you, though - don’t lay it on too thick.”

After mumbling an apology, Peter takes his time pulling Tony’s pants down and wetting his fingers, desperately trying to come up with anything that’s not _‘Nothing’._ At first, he tells Tony the same shit he’s told him before, saying how he likes the feeling of his hand and tongue on his cock. Then, he tries to put himself in Steve’s shoes. What could his fucked up ex-boyfriend appreciate about him?

“I like it that you’re smart and… brilliant. And you, um… cook very well.”

“Is that all?” Tony snarls when Peter stays silent for too long. He moves his hand faster, hoping the man will cum soon. “N-No, sorry, um… you’re a good friend and… I’m sure a lot of people appreciate y-your wit, your sarcasm and… your puns”

“What else?”

Is he breathing more rapid already? _Give him what he wants._ “Y-You’re g-good-looking.”

Tony stares at him, completely taken aback. “I’m… good looking?”

“I- I mean… y-yeah.” It’s not even a lie. “I r-remember thinking you must have a lot of suitors when you took off your mask at the bank. Oh, and… you are c-caring when I’m a… a _good boy_.”

Tony groans, hips buckling forward, breathing ragged. _He’s close_. “Oh fuck… T-Tell me what it is you like about my appearance.”

 _How narcissistic can a man be?_ “Um… y-your eyes are- I mean, the left one is a little darker than the right, that’s… fascinating. You’re just the right amount of buff and… y-your beard looks pretty neat-“

Peter sighs a breath of relief when Tony cums, ending his humiliation. Looking disturbingly pleased, Tony pulls his pants back up and turns his back to Peter. “That sounded surprisingly honest… partly, at least. JARVIS, turn off the lights. Wake me up at 10 am.”

Feeling brave, Peter wishes Tony a good night, somewhat disappointed when it seems to fall on deaf ears. If only he could look into Tony’s head and find out what’s going on in there…

In the morning, JARVIS wakes them up by playing one of Tony’s favorite rock songs. As soon as the man has gotten to his feet, JARVIS turns the music off. “Good morning and happy birthday, boss.”

 _It’s Tony’s birthday?_ As terrifying as that is, Peter wonders whether he could use it to his advantage… give Tony a special ‘present’, so to speak… something more meaningful than a simple hand- or blowjob. The mere thought is nauseating, but the boy feels like he doesn’t really have any other choice. He just needs to be convincing enough.

After taking a shower to make sure he’s perfectly clean as well as freshly shaven, Peter joins Tony in the kitchen, smiling as cheerfully as possible. “Happy Birthday, sir.” His smile drops when the man doesn’t acknowledge him one bit. “Um… I was wondering if there’s anything _special_ I can do for you today?”

Finally, Tony looks at him, though he seems less satisfied than _furious_. “How about you move your fucking ass to the stove and make me breakfast? It’s 10:30 already.”

 _Ouch._ That… hurt more than it should. Even though it completely fucks up Peter’s mind, he can’t help being upset about getting rejected like this. It’s just… He’s running out of time, _and_ ideas. He thought he’d figured it out; after all, it seemed to have worked yesterday.

Maybe he should have just gotten naked instead of asking. _Fuck._ He blew it. Unless… While rummaging through the fridge for the eggs, Peter has one more idea. It’s as simple as it is terrifying.

First, he’s going to try and bring a smile to Tony’s face. And then, he’s going to show him how serious he is by making him an offer Tony can’t refuse…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that no matter what happens in the next few chapters, don’t forejudge ;) **Any ending** is still possible… there will be a few more chapters, can't say how much because I don't know, but 5-7 more I think?


	30. Twenty-Nine (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter surprises Tony - in more than one way.

With regret, Tony secretly observes Peter busying himself at the stove. After what happened yesterday, Tony thought the boy has finally started to get it, but it doesn’t seem like it or Peter wouldn’t _ask_ if there’s anything ‘special’ he could do for him.

There are a ton of things he could do for him, but apparently, his young captive doesn’t seem capable of coming up with anything on his own. Because he doesn’t _want_ to even the tiniest bit. He’s still pretending, putting on a brave front in the hopes that Tony will get fooled and not give him away to his friends.

 _Not that he would._ He’s way too… possessive of Peter at this point. But it can’t hurt putting a little bit of pressure on him. Whereas Tony doesn’t expect Peter to actually want or like having sex with him all of a sudden, there is a difference between _letting_ things happen and _making_ things happen. It’s what Tony’s been preaching ever since he’s kidnapped him.

Sure, inquiring if there’s anything Peter could do without asking for anything in return means that he is starting to take the initiative, but Tony wants _more._ He wants Peter to act like the previous night… _making the decision_ and offering to please him instead of (just) waiting for Tony’s orders.

Before the whole fiasco with Loki, Tony might have been satisfied enough with Peter being well-behaved and not putting up any more fights, but in the Odinson house, the boy said something very significant. When he tried to convince Loki to sleep with him, he said that it wouldn’t be rape if he offered it. Which could be crucial for – finally – breaking the kid.

Albeit Tony has no idea if Peter actually believes what he said, there is a considerable chance that he does. After all, he’s a traumatized, abused teenager with an enormous guilt complex; a young boy, who rather wants his loved ones to think he died than taking the tiny chance that they might believe he’s enjoying his captivity.

Denying and ignoring the boy has been a lot harder than Tony expected, but by isolating him, he has hoped to accomplish two purposes. On the one hand, he wants the boy to become touch-starved and miss human interaction, longing for whatever Tony is willing to give him. And on the other hand, Tony wants to get his own thoughts ~~and feelings~~ together, because every time Peter looks at him, Tony doesn’t know whether he wants to hit or kiss him. It’s driving him _crazy_. Ordering Peter to tell him what he liked about him yesterday might not have been a smart decision in that regard, but the idea of hearing the kid saying nice, halfway believable things to him for once was too tempting and _bittersweet_.

Tony snaps out of his thoughts when Peter appears in his field of vision, putting down his plate with bacon, an omelette with vegetables and– a mug with a brownish kind of dough, a halved drinking straw sticking out of it. “What the fuck is that?”

“Sorry, sir, I don’t have any candles,” Peter says, slowly gliding down into the chair next to him. “It’s a, um, mugcake... f-for your birthday. Every Sunday, me and A-Aunt May made us one of those for our movie night. This one is pretty easy… you’ll just have to put an egg, three spoons of peanut butter and some sugar into a mug and microwave it for a minute.”

This is so goddamn _adorable_ Tony feels the sudden, desperate urge to grab a knife and slice Peter’s throat to get rid of him once and for all. The shy smile the boy flashes him sends a rush of whatever-the-fuck-it-is through Tony’s body, and he can’t- he just can’t fucking deal with it. Trying to make his voice sound as cold as possible, Tony pushes the mug away from him. “I hate peanut butter.”

His heart fucking _breaks_ when Peter’s looks at him with watery eyes, resembling a beaten puppy more than ever. “O-Oh. Um. I’m so s-sorry, I thought-, um, I- I mean, I can make you another, if you want.”

Tony opens his suddenly dry mouth to tell him off once more, but he can’t. _Fuck_ , seeing Peter so crushed, _hurts._ How the fuck can it _hurt_? Tony never asked for a fucking birthday cake, this is not- _oh, fuck this._ “I, um, I mean, I don’t _love_ peanut butter, but… I guess I can try it. Um… thank you.”

And just like that, Peter’s face lights up, causing Tony’s stomach to twist uncomfortably. “You’re welcome, sir. I hope it tastes well enough.”

With that, Peter gets up and opens the cupboard, taking out another package of that god-awful bread before retreating into the bedroom. For a second, Tony considers bringing him the glass of peanut butter, but it would be the wrong signal. Even though it’s fucking sweet of the kid to make him a mugcake with a straw serving as a birthday candle, it’s not what Tony _needs_.

 _Wait a second_ … what if Peter poisoned the dough with dish soap or something? Carefully, Tony takes out the straw and dips a spoon into the oddly fluffy cake dough, nosing it wearily. It smells delicious. Deciding to trust the boy, Tony gives it a go, humming approvingly at the taste. Definitely not dish soap.

Feeling oddly conflicted yet again, Tony eats his breakfast and half of the mugcake, leaving the rest for Peter. If he’s eaten it with his aunt before, he surely likes it himself. It can’t hurt to let him have a _tiny_ reward, can it? Besides, he can’t let Peter know he actually _loves_ peanut butter… eating the whole mug would be quite suspicious.

Tony leaves the plates on the table like every day and busies himself with a tricky algorithm for a new JARVIS feature. Half an hour later, Peter comes out of the bedroom, but Tony doesn’t turn around to look at him; he’s fully concentrating on his screen, so he actually gives a start when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Woah, what-“

Vastly irritated, Tony turns around in his seat, freezing in mid motion; what the _actual_ fuck. Peter is standing behind him, stark naked, his right, trembling hand sliding down Tony’s chest. “Um, sir, I- I’ve been wondering if you wanted to try and… m-make me cum on y-your cock today.”

…

 _He didn’t… just. say. that._ Tony only realizes he’s been stupidly gaping like a fish when Peter squeezes his thin body between the table and Tony’s chest, carefully straddling him. “I can… d-do the work, sir.”

It’s obvious that the boy is rather scared and not _really_ into it, but Tony couldn’t care less right now. This is more than he could have hoped for. Only when Peter leans down for a kiss, Tony snaps out of it. He quickly turns his head, so Peter’s lips land on his cheek instead. Kissing Peter is ~~everything~~ the _last_ thing Tony wants to do. It would most certainly take him places he doesn’t want to be…

Clearly misjudging the motion, Peter draws his head back, his voice almost desperate. “A-Am I not appealing to you anymore?”

“Oh, fuck, baby, of course you are,” Tony growls, without registering that he just called Peter a nickname. His eyes wander down the boy’s chest and stomach before resting on his cock. It’s not erected, which is rather disappointing, but his base is completely hairless, which must mean- “Did you… _shave_?”

Looking a tad bit more confident, Peter nods. “Yeah. I wanted to… look good for you.”

Tony is barely able to contain himself anymore. “Do you _really_ want this? Because you- _we_ don’t have to.”

A few seconds go by, but then Peter whispers, his bottom lip quivering, “Y-Yes, sir. I want to.”

That does it. The boy yelps when Tony gets up, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around the fine curve of his perfect ass. He carries him all the way to the bedroom where he throws him down onto the mattress, undressing himself at the speed of light.

Seconds later, he’s towering over Peter with a bottle of lube in his hands. “Spread your legs.” The boy looks like he already regrets his decision, but he complies without hesitation. Tony works him open fast, but sufficiently, even bothering to look for his prostate. When he finds it, Peter gasps, his legs twitching.

“You know… I highly doubt you’ll be able to cum on my cock already,” Tony groans, though smirking in satisfaction when Peter’s dick comes to life without him touching it. “Maybe you shouldn’t have set yourself such an ambitious goal.”

Peter’s fingers dig into the sheets. “You could still… give me additional private tutoring if I fail, sir.”

 _Fuck._ Seems it’s not just Tony’s birthday, but fucking Christmas as well. “All right, boy… I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Tony pulls his fingers out and lines himself up, trying not to push in too fast. _Don’t punish him for initiating this. Reward him._ Peter tries to breathe steadily, and as he’s lying there with his eyes closed, face scrunched up in discomfort _and_ pleasure, Tony feels a desperate need to wreck him. In the _best_ possible way. As soon as he’s fully sheathed, the man leans down, stealing a kiss after all.

He just can’t contain himself; also, it would be suspicious if he suddenly didn’t do it anymore, considering he’d done it in the past as well… right?

Tony’s hands find Peter’s and he pins them down next to the boy’s head, fingers entangled. “Ready?” he groans when he breaks the kiss, slowly starting to rock his hips back and forth.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Then, Peter does something he has never done before; he lifts his legs and wraps them around Tony’s waist, crossing his ankles behind the man’s back. It somehow makes it more intimate.

“Make sure not to stifle those cute little moans you make, all right? Let me hear them, but don’t fake or exaggerate. I want to know when it feels good.”

When Peter nods, Tony starts a faster rhythm, trying to angle his thrusts a little different each time. Eventually, the boy’s eyes become a bit glassy, and he gasps, blushing terribly. “T-That felt good, sir. Y-Yeah, right- right there.”

“Remember what I told you. Concentrate and relax. You know you can have prostate orgasms; you’ve had them before. Don’t bother asking for permission to cum, just focus on the feeling.”

Unfortunately, Tony is far too turned on by the whole situation to last long enough. Peter does his best to please Tony; he’s barely holding back on showing he’s enjoying it at least to an extent, even moving his pelvis to meet Tony’s thrusts a bunch of times. Sure, it could be more, but for someone with zero confidence, it’s not bad. _He will get there._

Panting heavily, Tony collapses on the smaller body when he climaxes, trapping Peter’s leaking cock between them. The teen squirms a bit, so Tony pulls out and rolls down from him. “Told you not to set yourself such a high goal.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but Peter promptly starts crying. “I- I’m sorry I disappointed you, sir, I really tried.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jesus… You didn’t disappoint me,” Tony says, feeling somewhat guilty. Seems like Peter's more mentally unstable than he thought. “You… did well enough. I never expected you to cum after only one training session. Did you mean what you said earlier? About the ‘private tutoring’?”

“Um…s-sure.”

“All right. Don’t move.” Even though Tony knows Peter doesn’t _want_ to even one bit, this is a sheer unbelievable development. He returns a few seconds later with the vibrating plug, causing Peter to tense visibly. Maybe the boy wouldn’t be so turned off by the idea if he wasn’t so frightened… “Lift your butt, but carefully. Don’t want all that cum dripping out of you just yet.”

Frowning, Peter does what’s asked of him, and thanks to the cum, lube and the fact that he’s already stretched, it slips in without any problems.

“I’m having a sort of birthday party with the others, which means I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. So, instead of a private lesson, you’ll get _homework_. You’ll have to either do one orgasm in twenty minutes, or three in forty. I’ll leave you the remote, so you can set your own pace. Keep in mind that I’ll find out if you don’t use it. You may jerk yourself off, but only after you had a prostate orgasm. I trust you not to cheat, all right?”

Peter nods, looking quite wary. “Yes, sir. I won’t cheat, I promise.”

“You better not, because if I happen to find out that you did, you’ll receive _detention_. Don’t forget, it’s extremely tempting to touch your cock. Don’t make me regret not tying you up for this.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir, I… really appreciate it.” It does sound somewhat sincere, so Tony puts his clothes back on. “All right. I also trust you not to leave the bedroom unless it’s for the toilet or to get water and bread. I also… left you half of the mugcake. Don’t touch anything else.”

“Okay, thank you so much, sir. W-What about the- the plug, is it? Can I take it out after… I’m done?”

How very thoughtful of the kid. Even though the idea of letting him feel stuffed for the whole day, getting constantly aroused whenever he moves too much, is extremely tempting, Tony decides to save it for another day. “You can. But only once you’ve _successfully_ finished your homework.”

“Y-Yeah, I figured. Thank you, sir.”

Feeling horny yet again, Tony leaves. During the party, he tries to concentrate on whatever his friends talk to him about, but every other minute, his mind drifts back to Peter, imagining him squirming on the bed, drenched in sweat. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore and takes out his phone, connecting to one of JARVIS' cameras in the bedroom. Although the boy is still naked, he’s not doing anything, meaning he’s either done, taking a break or hasn’t started yet.

“What’ve you got there?” Steve asks, trying to glance at his phone, but for some reason, Tony doesn’t feel like telling him. “Nothing. Just checking the news.”

An hour later, Clint asks Tony if he has _‘finally’_ succeeded at turning Peter into his _‘cock-hungry slut’_ after the _‘failure’_ from two weeks ago. “Just saying, if he was _my_ captive, I would have fucked him so often by now that he wouldn’t even remember his own name anymore.”

“He isn’t your captive, though, so you’ll have to drink water to satisfy your thirst. Jesus Christ…”

“Does that mean you’ve given up?”

“No, but this really isn’t your business.” To avoid any more stupid questions, Tony quickly grabs his glass of champagne and stands up, thanking his friends for being here and celebrating with him.

It’s not that he has _given up_ , not at all; in fact, Peter has made a _lot_ of progress in the last 24 hours, but Tony doesn’t dare to trust the situation just yet. Also… he doesn’t even know what he wants, anymore.

There was a time when Tony thought he wanted to turn Peter into a mindless sex slave who doesn’t care about anything than his master’s cock, but things have changed. Albeit that idea still has its appeal, it would eventually become boring. Peter is extraordinarily pretty, sure, but so are other young men. Technically, Tony could turn anybody into his _dumb_ cum _dump_ , but he doesn’t want _anybody._ He wants _Peter,_ and unless he wants to turn the boy into an exchangeable object _,_ he’ll have to preserve as much of _him_ as possible. 

After all, apart from his innocence and good looks, his wit is one of the reasons why Tony’s been so fascinated by him back in the bank. Peter might be hopelessly naïve and lack life experience, but he’s actually _not_ a dumb shit, no matter how often Tony calls him one. It would be foolish to waste his potential. And breaking him without completely destroying him is quite a challenge. 

_Maybe he should stop overthinking._ Nothing makes any sense to him anymore anyways, so why bother about it. It is what it is. What will be, will be.

And about that weird, tingly feeling that Tony refuses to recognize as a _crush_ or anything else as terrifying: who cares, really. _Nobody has to know._ Not his friends, and most certainly not Peter. It will fade away soon enough.

Tony doesn’t return back home till midnight. The boy is fast asleep, and since Tony’s not drunk enough to violate his rule of ‘don’t-touch-him-unless-he-comes-to-you’ (still valid for two more days), he goes to sleep as well.

Next morning, Peter offers him a blowjob as soon as he stirs. _He could really get used to be woken up like this…_ “Tell me about your homework, first. Have you been a good boy?”

“I hope so,” Peter says, blushing. “I, um… I failed to do one in twenty, so I went for three in forty, but I only managed to have two. So, I… did it again a second time, and I managed one in ten, even.”

Tony barely dares to hope. “Did you touch yourself?”

“Y-Yeah, I- I did touch myself during the first attempt because I just… couldn’t take it anymore and thought I might count it as a third. But then I realized that it’s probably not what you wanted, so I gave it another, thankfully successful try.”

Though Tony’s impressed by the confession, he’s still not pleased. “So you cheated?”

“I- I’ve listened closely this time, sir. You said I may jerk myself off after I had _a_ prostate orgasm. _A_ , as in… _singular._ So, I don’t think it counts as cheating, sir. It only means that I failed your challenge the first time.”

For a few seconds, Tony is speechless. And then, he _laughs_ , surprising himself even more than the kid. “You’re a sneaky little shit, do you know that? I love y-it.” _Oh god no. Nonononono-_

Peter blinks, looking extremely confused, clearly not knowing how to respond to that. In a desperate attempt to cover-up what he (almost) said, Tony fetches the plug and tells Peter to get on his knees. “Sounds weird, but I do love it when people listen closely. So, I guess that’s a point for you. Now, I want you to try and show me your progress while you suck me off. Since you’re going to be distracted, I’ll set no time limit.”

At first, Peter’s surprisingly focused and dedicated, but then Tony starts playing around with the remote. It’s a delight to see the boy drooling all over Tony’s cock, whimpering and somewhat spacing out for a few seconds whenever Tony changes the intensity.

The first one to cum is Tony, but he makes the best of it by getting behind Peter afterwards, telling him to stay on his hands and knees. Just like during the first training session, Tony starts fucking him with the plug, turning Peter into a sweating, babbling and whimpering mess. “O-Oh god, y-yes, sir, please, oh god.”

It’s hotter than Tony could have imagined; sure, ropes would make it even better, but Peter is clearly a lot more relaxed and less anxious like this. Eventually, the boy’s body convulses, and for a second, he looks like he forgets to breathe as he’s climaxing. Tony wraps his hand around Peter’s cock, giving it a few rough jerks before he squirts out a vast amount of cum, unable to refrain from screaming.

“Want me to stop?” Tony asks, grinning when the teen starts sobbing. “Y-Yes, please, sir, please, n-no more, stop, please.”

“All right. Good job, kid. You’re getting there. Let’s take a shower, come on.”

In the shower, Tony decides to take the collar off. He’s not going to let Peter out of the house for a few more weeks anyways, and JARVIS has strict orders not to respond to him. Since the skin beneath the collar is red, almost raw, Tony applies a soothing ointment once more.

“It comes back on if you disobey me,” the man warns Peter when he’s done. “After breakfast, I want you to change the sheets, wash clothes and clean the bathroom. If you’re done by 3 pm, you can help me with the arc reactor again.”

“O-Of course, sir. Thank you so much, sir.”

In fact, Tony hasn't intended to be this nice again before tomorrow, May 31st, but he’s interested to see how the boy’s going to behave if he thinks he’s more or less ‘safe’ already.

Since Peter does his work dutifully and orderly, Tony does let him help later in the afternoon. He explains the advances he’s made in the past two weeks and what still needs to be done. “My next goal is to build ten of these now and get the runtime up a few hours. Rhodey’s gonna bring me more palladium next week.”

“Isn’t that pretty expensive, sir?”

“It is; two thousand dollars a troy ounce. Fortunately, my share of the loot was 110 million.”

Peter looks slightly intimidated. “Doesn’t anyone get suspicious if you pay all these things in cash?”

Smirking, Tony lights up a cigarette and takes a few puffs before offering it to Peter as well. Grossed out, the boy shakes his head. “Th-Thank you, sir, but I don’t-”

“Take it.” With trembling fingers, Peter obliges and takes a pull on the cigarette, coughing terribly. “Jesus, don’t swallow next time. This isn’t my dick, boy.” When Peter blushes deeply, Tony chuckles, taking it back.

“To answer your question: around here, money laundry laws aren’t as effective as in the US. However, you’re right, of course… it’s not always easy. Scott, who helped me incapacitate the security systems of the bank, has connections to someone living in a – more or less – bigger city around here, who’s willing to accept a _vast_ amount of dollar notes in exchange for bitcoins and other cryptocurrencies. T’Challa has done the same thing for us. You can easily trade cryptocurrencies back for dollars on various websites, which allow us to transfer the money right into our bank accounts. About half of our money is in various offshore bank accounts already.”

“And… if I may ask, why did you steal all that money for? Just to live here and… build arc reactors?”

“Of course not. Our plan was to stay here for about a year until things have settled and then go back to wherever in the world we want to be. However, thanks to you, I’m now the most wanted guy in the whole US, if not the whole world, so I might just have to stay here after all.”

Shivering visibly, the boy drops his gaze, staring at his feet. “I… I am so-“

“Don’t waste your breath. I’ll never be able to forgive you for that, but since I ruined your life as well, I guess we’re kind of even.”

With tears in his eyes, Peter looks up, obviously not knowing what to say. Fighting back the sudden, concerning urge to get up and kiss him, Tony grabs his phone, frowning when he sees that he has five missed calls from Carol.

He calls her back promptly, stomach clenching when she picks up at the first ringing. “Please tell me it’s nothing bad.”

“Hi to you too,” she growls, sounding extremely tense. “Stark, there’s a problem… SHIELD is going to go live at 6 pm to present a new suspect in the case.”

“Oh god… Who is it?”

“It’s Rhodey.”

Tony’s heart skips a beat, feeling terribly guilty in an instant. This is _bad._ “What? How?”

“I’m on that right now, but… Tony, they know you’re somewhere in the Bahamas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is chapter 30 already... I want to thank you guys for keeping me motivated every single week, especially by leaving a comment, it means a lot. Without you, this wouldn't be possible 💕 Whether you like or dislike where this is (maybe?) going, keep in mind that you should never judge a book by it's cover - or a story before it's finished ;)


	31. Thirty (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter risks losing himself in the process of trying to prove that he deserves Tony's forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely soulsister Stargirl2000 for the inspiration to “I don’t want to survive. I want to live”.  
> And thanks to my friend Harishe for beta-reading ❤️ You saved me big times :D

Peter watches Tony closely; whatever the news is, it’s clearly shocking to him. He still doesn’t dare to get his hopes up, though, because anything good for _him_ would be bad for _Tony,_ which would eventually make it bad for him as well. “All right… yeah, I’ll tell him… call me back as soon as you know more.”

Tony then sends Peter back into the bedroom, where he anxiously lays down on the bed. After about half an hour, the bell rings. In the hopes that Tony never told JARVIS to alert him about anything like this. Peter presses his ear against the door, eavesdropping. Sounds like… Rhodey, Steve and _Bruce_?

“How the fuck did they find out about me?” Rhodey yells, causing Peter to gasp. _What?!_

Tony seems extremely pissed and worried. “I just spoke to Danvers again. You ain’t gonna believe this: a few weeks ago, some elderly folks went on a cruise. On Sunday, they finally showed off the photos they took at a family birthday party. Me and you… we’re in the background of one of those pics.”

“They recognized you? That mugshot is like twenty years old.” 

“Yes. Wasn’t hard for them to get your name because of your rank in the army. And when they found out you were at MIT the same year as me - jackpot. They’re going to release your army photo and name today, but not the actual picture or the fact that it was taken in Nassau for another week to lull us in a false sense of security. They’re going to control every airport and harbor, though.”

 _Nassau._ Capital of the Bahamas. Does that mean-

“Good thing we’re nowhere near Nassau,” Steve says, instantly squashing Peter’s faint glimmer of hope. “The Bahamas consist of almost 700 islands; they can’t search all of them.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Tony snarls, “of course, they can. Besides, only thirty of them are actually inhabited, so-“

“ _Permanently_ inhabited,” Bruce corrects, “not including small, private islands like this one. Around 150 islands are sold to rich people who mostly come here for the holidays, and since T’Challa - or rather, the kingdom of Wakanda - officially owns Bonefish Cay, we should be somewhat safe.”

“Let’s assume they come here, though. Nat, Clint and Bucky have had a bounty on their heads for years. Loki, Steve and you have a record. And then there’s Rhodey and me.”

“And the kid,” Steve points out.

“I still don’t think they’ll search all islands,” Bruce says, “There are tons of legal issues and they don’t even have any guarantees that Rhodey was part of the heist and that you’re still here, even. You could have been passing through.”

“I was in Nassau _and_ Miami multiple times to fetch Tony’s goddamn Palladium,” Rhodey groans, “If they remember me … shit, and Loki was with me as well.”

“Fortunately, neither of you has ever done the normal grocery shopping around here, so we should be safe. We have to rely on Carol to inform us about anything and alert us in time if we have to flee. Our water plane is big enough for all of us and a few bags.”

The men leave shortly thereafter, so Peter returns to the bed, shaking. SHIELD might think he’s dead, but they haven’t given up on finding the Avengers. The chance of him eventually getting out of here alive might be microscopically small, but it’s there. He can’t give up now.

_So much for not getting his hopes up anymore…_

Even though Peter is deeply ashamed about how he’s been acting the last couple of days, he knows he’ll have to keep it up at all costs. _He must not blow it again._

Since Tony acts like nothing happened when Peter comes out to make dinner, he neither addresses the phone call, nor apologizes for something he’s not even supposed to know. In fact, the man stops speaking to him again, causing Peter to offer himself once more later in bed, in the hopes that he _hasn’t already_ blown it. “I’m not in the mood today.”

Worried and relieved at the same time, Peter rolls back to his side. “O-Oh, okay, sir, I’m sorry. Good night.”

A few seconds later, the unbelievable happens. “Good night.”

However, Tony still doesn’t seem to be ‘in the mood’ the next day because he gets up before Peter could have even made a move. He leaves the house just after breakfast and doesn’t come back until dinner. When Peter returns to the kitchen after forcing the dry bread down his throat for the (hopefully) last time, he instantly drops to his knees, trying to look as submissively as possible.

“S-Sir, I’ve been wondering if you can find it in your heart to… forgive me.” When Tony stays silent, Peter anxiously risks a glance; the man’s looking at him, face blank. “Please, sir… I am so sorry. I’ll do anything.”

Tony sighs, long and deep. “You see… I don’t trust you, kid. I’ll admit I’ve been quite happy with you the past few days, but what tells me you’re not gonna revert back to being a stubborn little bitch the second you stop being scared that I’ll let the others give you a good fuck?”

Peter can’t help crying. “Because I won’t, sir. I don’t want to be… beaten or punished all the time. B-Besides, I’m aware that you can always… give me to your friends or k-kill me if I fail you again.”

“Ah. The right keyword… You forget I know you’d rather be dead than having to deal with me since you literally asked Loki to kill you in order to escape me. Nothing you can say could make me trust you not to kill yourself the first chance you get. Which is a real fucking problem. I don’t want you to end your life.”

“Then make it worth living.”

It’s hard to tell who looks more baffled. But then, Tony backhands Peter with such force that Peter falls over, crying out as he lands painfully on his back. When Tony leaps at him, Peter instinctively protects his head with his arms, but they’re pushed aside and Tony- _kisses_ him, angrily and fiercely. _What the hell?_

As sudden as it started, it stops. Panting, Tony glares at him and opens his mouth a bunch of times to speak, but it takes a while until he does. “How?”

There are a million things Peter can think of, though it’s rather unlikely Tony is willing to do any of them. “By n-not hurting me unless I deserve to get punished. By letting me eat after w-warming your cock. And by not leashing me in the bedroom with nothing to do like- like an animal locked up in a cage.”

Tony growls, his hand closing around Peter’s throat. “Careful, or I’ll lock you in an _actual_ cage.”

“P-Please, sir… I don’t want to _survive_. I w-want to _live._ I _want_ to be good for you and give you everything you need. In- In every conceivable way.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony loosens his grip and gets up, pulling Peter with him. “Prove it. Take off your clothes.”

With shaking fingers, Peter undresses as fast as he can. Tony then shoves him down into the chair and types something into his laptop. “Jerk off to this.”

Peter knows what it is before his eyes fall on the screen. In fact, he’s been wondering for ages when Tony will show it to him. It’s the twenty-three-minute-long evidence of his rape, unedited and unadorned. _He can do this._ He’s had to do worse… like jerking off in front of his classmates and teacher. _No big deal. Give him what he wants._

And yet, it’s impossible to stay calm when he remembers how desperate, yet hopeful the boy in the video had been, thinking that it would all be over soon. It feels like a lifetime ago…

Not wanting to give Tony any chance to doubt him, Peter quickly wraps his hand around his cock, swallowing thickly at the man’s next orders. “Spread your legs and finger yourself with the other hand.”

Fighting down the urge to sob, Peter wets his fingers and – after hesitating for a short moment – starts massaging his rim. Never before has he touched himself there, but he _has to_ prove that he’s serious. “Keep your eyes on the screen.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shame washes over Peter as he sees how _pathetic_ he looks and sounds in the video; probably not unlike he does now. However, the longer the video goes on, the more… _indifferent_ he feels. The boy in the video… he doesn’t exist anymore. He’s gone. _Dead._ Has been for quite a while. It’s about time Peter accepts it. _No more_ shame is what he’s sworn himself…

The video is more than halfway over when Peter tonelessly asks for permission to cum. “No.” Face distorting in anguish, Peter forces himself to stop, squirming a bit. Tony leaves the video running and gets behind him, bringing his face close to Peter’s. “ _This_ is your purpose in life. Nothing else.”

“I know, sir.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Then sit on my lap, back to my chest, and fuck yourself like the cock-whore you are. Keep watching the video while you do.”

Tony hands him one of the lube bottles he keeps everywhere in the house, and Peter quickly works himself open even more. It’s awkward and – yes – _shameful_ to ride Tony, but Peter can’t find it in himself to care too much. At least the man allows him to jerk off and have release this time.

“Fuck, that was good, baby,” Tony groans after they’ve both finished, panting and sweating. _Baby_ … _that’s the second time in two days now…_ “All right. I might regret this, but I’m going to trust you, for a start. Tomorrow, we can go back to how things were, but remember… if you pull another stunt like you did at Loki’s, I’ll open a slut rental business around here.”

A few silent tears run down Peter’s cheeks. “I’ll be your good boy, sir. I promise.”

In a matter of days, Tony significantly warms up to him. He doesn’t deny him proper food any longer (even though he still insists on the cockwarming) and lets Peter assist him with the arc reactor again. In addition, he continues watching Netflix with him, often before – or during - fucking him into the mattress.

They also resume Peter’s ‘orgasm training’, and although Peter tries to keep himself together, he freaks out a little the first time Tony introduces him to the construct he calls a ‘small fucking machine’. Tony ends up tying him up for it, but Peter doesn’t really blame him; after getting fucked for thirty minutes straight without being granted any kind of release, he’s a sobbing mess, feeling vastly sore and overstimulated despite not even orgasming.

Tony eventually has mercy on him and gives up, mumbling something about ‘no pressure’. He doesn’t even get punished, but instead of feeling relieved, it fucks Peter up immensely. He promises himself that he won’t fail Tony again.

And for some reason, it fucking works. Despite putting himself under great pressure, Peter’s driven by the desire of showing Tony how good he can be, so he doesn’t hold back next time they try it. Instead, he only focuses on what he feels physically, not repressing any moan that threatens to escape his throat. He doesn’t care anymore if he looks or sounds pathetic; in fact, he completely trusts Tony that seeing him like this turns him on. Somehow, the knowledge of being able to have this sort of effect on another human being, let alone a cold-hearted asshole like Tony, is enough to eventually send him over the edge.

The man is more than pleased and, for the first time ever, lets Peter eat some chocolate. “I’m very proud of you, Peter,” Tony says before flashing him a genuine smile, _kissing his temple._ “I knew you could do it. And soon enough, you’ll be able to cum on my cock as well.”

“I hope you’re right sir,” Peter responds, only realizing after a few seconds that he’s _actually sincere_. He takes a long shower that evening, sitting in the tub with bent legs, sobbing quietly. _What the fuck is wrong with him?_

After that, Tony’s behavior becomes the perfect example of “hot and cold”; sometimes, he kisses and _cuddles_ Peter before being rather rough again, and with increasing regularity, he calls him ‘Peter’, ‘kid’, ‘boy’ or even _‘baby’_ before switching to ‘slut’ once more. It’s confusing as fuck.

Three weeks after Carol Danver’s call, Tony admits they’ll have to be economical with the Palladium they still have, revealing that SHIELD found out about Rhodey and that they’re aware he purchased a high amount of Palladium on at least two different occasions. “I don’t want to risk anything. And just in case you’re getting your hopes up: don’t. We have everything under control.”

“I’m not, sir,” Peter lies, taking a long puff of his own cigarette, barely coughing when he purposely inhales some of the smoke. It makes him feel somewhat lightheaded. “I swear.”

However, as the days – and weeks - go by without any SWAT team bursting through the door of ~~his and~~ Tony’s home, Peter’s hope eventually fades. _Nobody is going to save him._ Albeit he hasn’t forgotten about Loki’s note, he knows he’ll never try to get away. He’d fail anyways.

For some reason, losing that hope is less devastating than he thought. In fact, having (finally) come to terms with him staying here until Tony eventually gets bored and kills him, makes Peter feel sort of _free._ It’s odd and unexplainable, but it’s what Peter imagines May must have felt when she heard about his death.

It’s a relief not having to torment himself with useless thoughts and false hopes about escaping or getting rescued any longer. All he has to care about now is getting through the days without giving Tony any reason to punish him. 

It makes Peter feel so free and relaxed that he – completely unexpected – manages to have his first prostate orgasm during sex the following day.

Peter’s on his knees as Tony fucks him from behind, and although he’s often felt a lot better during sex lately, it’s even more intense today, the pleasure almost unbearable. And suddenly, it’s _too much_ , and before Peter knows what’s happening, he lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched scream, his back arching as he cums untouched. His body convulses and as his ass clenches, Tony reaches his climax as well.

“Fuck, did you- did you touch yourself?”

“N-No, sir,” Peter pants, barely daring to believe it himself. _He did it._ It might have taken him weeks (or months? It’s getting harder to keep track of time), but he fucking did it. It’s disgusting how proud he is of himself.

“Holy fuck, that was even hotter than I imagined,” Tony groans before lying down, pulling Peter as close to his chest as he can. His hand caresses his cheek while he mumbles, “You’ve been so good… my perfect boy… I’m so proud of you.”

Peter can’t even find it in himself to cry.

Following the first prostate orgasm during sex, Tony’s behavior gets even more confusing. Sure, he’s as hot-tempered as ever, hitting or snapping at Peter whenever he feels like it, but sometimes, Peter almost gets the impression that Tony _likes_ him in a creepy, pretty fucked-up kind of way…

Or maybe he’s just gotten used to it.

After all, it’s been ages since Peter has interacted with anyone that’s not Tony. They haven’t had one visitor since Peter has returned from Loki, and JARVIS still doesn’t respond to him. To make it worse, Tony often leaves him alone for hours, working on something with Bruce that he’s not telling Peter. Since he isn’t allowed to do anything but read the books Tony gives him, the boy almost looks forward to the man coming back, unable to bear the deafening silence that threatens to suffocate him.

To deal with it somehow, Peter eventually falls into a habit of quietly mumbling to himself whenever Tony isn’t around, mostly fighting with his conscience which keeps insisting that he’s slowly losing it. He accepts that he probably _is_ losing it when Peter names the ‘good’, reasonable voice inside his head after his middle name - the name of his uncle - _Benjamin._

Mostly, they fight about sex. Peter still ~~says he~~ despises it, but whenever he argues that there’s nothing wrong with making the best of it and trying it to enjoy it at least to an extent (at least that’s what Nat and Bruce said, right?), Benjamin reprimands him.

 _"_ Everything’s _wrong with that. You’re_ not _a slut. If you think like that, Tony will win. If he hasn’t already…”_

“He won’t win as long as I’m only acting like 'his slut' to endure less pain.”

_“Humans are mammalians. Eventually, you will start to like and look forward to it, even.”_

“I won’t.”

_“You’ve literally just looked at the clock to check how long he’s been gone already.”_

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

As the weeks go by, Benjamin becomes quieter, and Peter answers more and more often with “So what” until eventually, Benjamin vanishes completely.

Peter doesn’t think he’ll miss him.

Every now and then, Tony likes to experiment with certain _substances_. As it turns out, Peter becomes embarrassingly horny and _slutty_ whenever Tony lets him drink, but since there’s always a risk he’ll get emotional-drunk as well, the man doesn’t do it too often.

The first time Tony wants Peter to try cocaine, the boy refuses, desperately begging Tony not to make him take it. After a pretty harsh beating, however, he gives in, only to be completely overwhelmed by the incredibly intense _high_ he feels shortly thereafter. Nothing matters anymore and for the first time in _months,_ Peter feels completely content and happy, overflowing with vitality.

However, when the effect has worn off, the boy feels more awful than ever. Edgy and thoroughly depressed, he even asks Tony for another ‘line’. “No. Don’t want to risk getting you addicted. I’ll decide when it’s safe enough to let you have some again.”

Deep down, Peter is somewhat grateful for it – no matter how good it makes him feel for a limited amount of time, he knows that getting addicted would make him even more dependent on Tony than he already is. Therefore, he trusts Tony to know what he’s doing and enjoys the few rare occasions when he gets to escape his mind – and the mess that has become his life.

All in all, living with Tony has become quite a routine composed of fucking, smoking, reading and watching TV shows or movies. It’s been a while since they’ve been able to work on the arc reactor, but Tony’s started teaching Peter chess, and one day, the man brings home an enormous jigsaw puzzle consisting of five fucking thousand pieces. As it turns out, puzzling is a relaxing, yet challenging, activity and the rock music Tony listens to during, provides additional entertainment.

In short, Peter’s life has turned almost peaceful – he’s barely had to be punished since the ‘silent treatment’, and nowadays, Peter at least knows what awaits him in case he disobeys. Whenever he talks back or refuses to do anything Tony wants, he gets hit. Burning Tony’s meals or not properly doing his chores means he won’t get to eat. Showing reluctance or unwillingness in bed results in Tony fucking him roughly and without any sort of prep. It’s very easy, and very simple.

One morning, Peter wakes up to Tony bustling around the kitchen. Panic-stricken, the boy jumps out of bed, wondering how late it is and why JARVIS didn’t wake them up. “Good morning, sir, I’m sorry that-“ He cuts off mid-sentence when his eyes fall on a small birthday cake in the middle of the table. “Is someone coming to visit?”

“Morning. Sit down, will you? I’ll be with you in a sec, just making some coffee and fresh OJ.”

Utterly confused, Peter drops into one of the chairs, warily eyeing the cake. Whose birthday is it? Hopefully not Steve’s or Bucky’s… or Clint’s. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help, sir?”

“You can light the candles, if you want.”

Frowning, Peter takes the box of matches; normally, Tony doesn’t trust him with these sorts of things. A little clumsily, he lights the candles one by one, not bothering to count them. A minute later, Tony hands him a glass of deliciously fresh orange juice and a fork, smiling widely. “Happy Birthday!”

For a few seconds, Peter just stares at him. “Sir?”

“It’s your birthday.”

Peter glances at the cake, quickly counting the candles - _seventeen_. “B-But my birthday is in August, sir.”

“Yes. August 10th. That’s today.”

 _No._ There’s no way in hell it’s been _five months_ since the heist _._ There has to be a mistake. He opens his mouth to argue, but Tony cuts him off, growling dangerously. “Don’t test my patience, Peter.”

“I- I wasn’t- Sorry, sir. Thank you so much, this is… really kind of you.”

“ _But?_ ”

“I’m a l-little… overwhelmed. I- I didn’t expect this.”

“The cake or that it’s your birthday?”

“Both.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony takes out his phone, showing Peter the date. “I mean, I guess it’s hard to tell around here because the temperature and weather barely changes throughout the year.”

Not that Peter would know; the house has an AC and he hasn’t been outside since the day he returned from Loki, which was... almost three fucking months ago. _Wow._

Tony urges him to blow out the candles. “Make a wish.” Seeing no sense in wishing for something that’s never going to happen anyway, Peter silently wishes for May to get through the day without too much grief. “What did you wish for?”

 _Oh-oh._ Knowing that Tony could tell if he lied, Peter decides to be honest. “For my aunt to have a g-good day. I-If she’s still alive, that is.”

Tony looks at him a bit oddly. “She is, for all I know… Eat your cake. I hope it tastes good, it’s from a convenience store around here.”

For a second, Peter considers getting under the table, but since breakfast usually goes without cockwarming, he stays seated, carefully taking the first bite of the chocolate cake. It’s _delicious._

When they’re done, Tony looks at him invitingly. “So… since it’s your birthday, I’ll allow you to ask me for a favor. Anything goes as long as we’ll stay inside and, um, I’ll have to be able to provide it.”

“Um… wow, this is… thank you, sir. Um… can we work on the puzzle?”

“Of course, but I’m sure there’s something more… out of the ordinary you can think of.”

When Peter confusedly asks if they can watch the next episode of Game of Thrones, Tony sighs. “Come on, kid, I’m serious. Isn’t there _anything_ _else_ you want? This is supposed to be a present, after all.”

Vastly overwhelmed, Peter’s eyes start to burn. He has no idea what Tony wants. Unless it’s something sexu- _oh. Sure._ In an instant, Peter’s down on his knees. “Sir, I want you to fuck me, please.”

The man sighs again, even more deeply than before. Is Peter imagining it or is there _pity_ in Tony’s eyes? “Okay… how about this…” In disbelief, Peter watches as Tony hands him his unlocked phone. “I’ll go and get something I’m sure you’ll like… until then, feel free to look at your gir- _Michelle’s_ Instagram. Or any other account you want. You are _not_ allowed to interact with anyone, post, or use my phone for anything else. This is not a trick; I mean it.” Tony then leans forward, tenderly cupping Peter’s cheek. “I _trust_ you, Peter.”

The boy barely registers that Tony kisses him; the phone in his sweaty, shaking hands feels heavy, and suddenly, he’s all alone with it. Peter stares at it like it’s a ticking time bomb, his eyes focused on the green call symbol.

_Dear. God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would you do? Trust Tony and call for help? 👀  
> Sorry if this felt rushed and confusing, but if I wrote all these scenes, the actual story would never come to an end. The build-up to this was 30 (actually, 43…) chapters, so I hope Peter breaking wasn’t too much of a surprise. As I said last time though, don’t judge this story before it’s finished!  
> If you want to read more details about the rushed scenes, tell me, please. They could be turned into a Drabble for the Drabble fic idea; that way, the story can continue even after it ended (if that makes sense) :D


	32. Thirty-One (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony suprises Peter, Peter surprises Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading; you're a lifesaver ❤️

Technically, it’s not a trick. Peter _is_ free to look at any Instagram account he wants, but unbeknownst to the boy, JARVIS has strict orders not to let Peter do anything else. It’s part of the ‘Baby Protocol’ Tony came up with months ago, which basically disables the call and text functions and only allows downloading, no uploading - including short messages or posts.

It’s one final test. In the first evening on the island, Peter admitted that Tony shouldn’t trust him with his phone. Now that Tony _has trusted_ him with it, he’s eager to find out if Peter’s gonna try anything.

Tony’s gut instinct tells him that Peter will be good... He’s too broken. Too ~~loyal~~ scared to try and call for help. Sure, maybe he won’t do it because he assumes it’s a trick after all, but a few months earlier he surely would have taken the risk.

When Tony comes back after 10 minutes, he finds Peter washing the dishes from breakfast, the phone lying abandoned on the table.

“And? Which accounts did you look at?” he asks and grabs the device, opening JARVIS’ app.

“I didn’t look at any, sir.”

The protocol and activity log show that Peter’s telling the truth. He did _nothing_ , which is both wonderful – and _odd._ “So, you didn’t trust me, huh? Come on, I’ll show you Michelle’s page.”

Peter dries his hand with the dish towel before hanging it back to its place. “It’s fine, sir. Thank you, but I don’t want to see it.”

“What? Why not?”

After taking a deep breath, Peter turns around, looking heartbroken. “Because seeing her will hurt me. That’s why.”

It’s impressive how mature the boy has become. “Okay... Um, I respect that… Do you still want to know if she’s okay, at least?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, if you want to tell me, sure. Thank you.”

Tony quickly opens Michelle’s Instagram. The URL in her bio still leads to the ‘Peter Parker Foundation’ May established a few months ago and she still has all their couple pictures up. Although she’s recently started posting new, much happier content, she made a heartbreaking post for Peter’s birthday earlier today.

“She seems to be doing fine. About six weeks ago, she and her class went on a trip to Europe. Also, from the looks of it, she might have taken a special interest in that tall Asian kid who was in the bank with us. The one who carried you to the helicopter.”

Tony doesn’t know if Michelle really is dating that guy, but they do seem quite close in some of the photos. Peter’s reaction is unexpected - he’s _smiling_. “Aren’t you upset?”

“No, sir. I’ve wanted her to move on, and Brad… w-we never really got along, but that’s mainly because he had a crush on her as well. He’s- He’s a good guy. He won’t f-fail her like I did.”

When Tony feels a weird, unsettling lump in his throat, he jumps up as if stung by a bee, mumbling something about having to go to the toilet. That fucking kid… only someone as pure as Peter would think that he _failed_ her. 

After splashing some cold water on his face, Tony returns to the living room, where he finds Peter sitting on the couch like always, waiting for orders. “I’ve borrowed Thor’s Nintendo,” Tony says, taking the console out of the bag. “I’ve never played Mario Kart before, but apparently, it’s great fun, so… wanna play?”

Peter’s mouth drops open. “F-For real? I love Mario Kart, sir. I can show you, it’s not that hard.”

It’s a joy seeing the boy so vivid; the last couple of weeks he’s been pretty _depressed_ and dispirited. Maybe he should surprise him more often…

They connect the console to the TV and power up the game. Peter sits down cross-legged, holding the controller in his hands. He looks so adorable that Tony feels the need to take out his phone.

“Turn your head, will you? … Great.” Two months ago, Tony started snapping random pictures of Peter. Initially during sexual activities only, but lately, he’s often caught himself wanting to remember moments like this as well. At first, Peter was pretty shy about it, but it’s gotten a lot better.

After Peter explains the controls to Tony, they start the game. The man is vastly overwhelmed. There’s so much going on and he keeps on confusing the various buttons, which means it doesn’t take long until he’s quite a bit behind Peter and the A.I. characters.

“I fucking hate this,” he huffs when his character drops into a hole that randomly opened up right under his cart for the third time in a row. “Who invented this stupid game?”

Enraged, he looks at Peter, who’s _giggling_. “Skill comes with practice.” His character gracefully slides around a curve, breaking open one of the rainbow-colored boxes. “We can do something else if you don’t like it.”

“It’s fine. Just explain it to me again. I don’t even know what these boxes are for.”

Thirty minutes later, it’s finally starting to be fun. Even if Tony has no chance of winning, he ends in third and even in second place a number of times. Since he has a feeling that Peter’s been holding back for Tony’s sake, he then lets him play by himself and keeps watching him, snapping a few more pictures.

It’s all great fun until Peter fails terribly a bunch of times. “Why’re you so bad suddenly?”

“Because my fucking fingers aren’t doing what they’re supposed to do,” Peter hisses through clenched teeth, angrily shaking his left hand.

“Is this still an aftereffect of the, um, gunshot wound?”

“I guess so. I mean, Dr. Strange said it’s permanent and since I didn’t have any problems before…”

“Is that why you’ve been dropping so many things?”

“Um… yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I punished you for breaking the plates.”

Peter swiftly glances at him before focusing back on the screen. “Because I didn’t think it would make a difference.”

Admittedly, a few months ago it wouldn’t have made a difference. But it does now. “Hm. Well, as long as you’re not using it as an excuse for being clumsy, tell me next time.”

“Oh… okay. Thank you, sir.”

Feeling a bit awkward, Tony gets up, offering to make Popcorn. Peter’s eyes light up and he nods, looking thrilled.

They stop playing when it’s time to make lunch. Tony decides to cook together today, showing Peter a few tricks when it comes to chopping onions and peppers. Afterwards, the man continues his tiring work on JARVIS’ newest defense system whereas Peter goes back to playing. Eventually though, the boy joins him at the table.

“Sir… May I ask what you’re planning on doing with these?” He points at one of the finished arc reactors and the expensive drone Tony purchased a few weeks ago.

“We, um, want it to fly around and… keep its ‘eyes’ open, so to speak. With the arc reactor, it should be able to stay in the air for hours and… interfere, if necessary.”

“What do you mean?” When Tony looks at him meaningfully, Peter shutters visibly. “You want to use it as a _weapon_?”

“My granddad initially developed the arc reactor for the weapon industry. You can do a lot of damage with that great amount of power.”

“I wouldn’t have helped you if you told me you’d intended to use them to… build bombs or fucking _combat drones_!”

Tony feels a sudden rush of anger. _Don’t hit him today. It’s his birthday._ “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but you can rest assured that for now, I don’t have any plans to nuke cities or kill anyone. See it more as a… protection and defense system, or a possible bargaining chip in case we get caught. Now stop looking at me like that. If you don’t want to play anymore, read a book or something, but don’t be a pain in my neck.”

There’s still tension in the air at dinner. Since Tony’s been horny all day (especially after the recent cockwarming) and doesn’t want to have to be rough, he makes Peter another offer as soon as they’ve both finished eating. “We will have sex now, but we’ll only do what you want. How does that sound?”

“Great,” Peter says tonelessly and thoroughly unenthusiastic.

Tony takes a few deep breaths. _Stay calm_. “Look… If it makes you feel any better, I would have made the same progress with the arc reactor even if you hadn’t helped me. It would have taken me a few more weeks, but since we haven’t gotten any new Palladium for three months now, nothing would be different.”

Even though Peter looks at him warily, he also seems a bit more relaxed. “Okay. Thank you for saying that. Sir.”

“So… about sex… How do you want to do it?”

“I can choose?”

“Yes. Whatever you want.”

Peter’s eyes sparkle with triumph. “Then _I_ want to fuck _you_. Up _your_ ass, this time.”

 _Wait, what?_ “No, that’s- that’s not an option. I meant we will do whatever you want as in _you_ being bottom. I can suck you off, if you want, but-“

“You didn’t say that, though.” It’s obvious Peter doesn’t even _want_ to do it – he’s just being a little shit. “Why can’t you be bottom for once?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Oh, wow… If I had known it was an option to simply _decline,_ I would have tried that someday.”

That does it; Tony backhands him across the face. “Watch your mouth, will you?”

However, Peter seems oddly unfazed by it. He barely even yelped. “Sorry, sir. I was under the impression you _trusted_ me enough to know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ “This has nothing to do with trust. I’m not fucking _scared_ , I just… prefer it the other way round.”

“If it’s just about preferences, we could… gamble for it, though? Whoever wins, gets to be on top.”

Despite the hatred he feels for the kid right now, Tony can’t help being intrigued. What is Peter up to? It’s almost like he's been waiting for a moment like this. “What kind of game?”

“A game about _trust_. We ask each other questions and are obliged to answer honestly. The first one refusing to answer, loses.”

“That’s stupid. How would I know you’d be telling the truth?”

 _“_ How would I know that you are?”

Tony chuckles involuntarily. _Touché_. “All right. Let’s do this, but no questions about… _us_.” God forbid the boy asking about Tony’s ‘feelings’ for him…

“ _Us?_ ”

Tony can feel his face growing hot. “I meant… how badly we dislike each other and stuff.” Peter furrows his brow, but Tony doesn’t give him time to inquire about it. “And you’re not allowed to ask anything that would help you get away from here.”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir. You can start if you want.”

Peter’s provocative smile causes Tony to fume. _All right. You wanted it._ “About Michelle… If you had known what awaited you, would you have still saved her from Bucky’s hungry fingers?”

Peter’s mouth drops open in surprise. _Got you._ “I… um, d-depends on what would have happened to her. If he’d killed or- or r-raped her, then… y-yeah.”

“He would have done neither.”

Swallowing thickly, Peter takes his time to answer. His voice is barely a whisper when he eventually speaks. “N-No. I wouldn’t have.”

He bows his head in shame, causing Tony to feel pretty awful and _guilty._ However, that changes when Peter’s braced himself to ask his first question, “What’s your worst memory, sir?”

 _Oh god._ Agreeing to do this was a big mistake. “My mother's death.” To avoid any weird follow up discussions, Tony quickly adds, “My turn. What’s the real reason why you want to play this game?”

Now it’s Tony’s time to smile triumphantly. Weirdly enough, Peter doesn’t seem to care about Tony’s straightforwardness. “Because I want to find out why you are… the way you are. Why did you kill your father?”

Feeling murderous, Tony leans forward, his face almost touching Peter’s. “I think I’ve already told you what would happen if you ever mentioned him again.”

Peter doesn’t even blink an eye. “So… I win?”

 _Shit._ Or as Natasha would say: _Karma is a bitch._ “I killed him because he was a horrible person. You know what he’s infamous for.”

“Given the circumstances of our relationship, I doubt you killed him because he _kidnapped_ women and _children_ to sell them to _rapists_ , though.” Growling, Tony raises his fist, but before he can swing it down, Peter asks, “He raped you too, didn’t he?”

Tony freezes, unable to remember the last time he was so fucking angry. “My father held no interest in boys or men.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I- I really hate to break your bubble, but I’m not suffering from any ‘childhood trauma’.”

“You clearly are or you would answer my questions.”

“I killed him because he killed my mom,” Tony roars, shaking with anger. 

" _What_? W-Why did he do that?" 

“Because she wanted him to come clean and surrender. He refused, and when she threatened she’d tell the truth, he- fucking shot her. I guess he never even really loved her… His men kidnapped her and a bunch of other young women from Italy, you know, but my dad kept her and- at first, he treated her rather well, but then she had me and-“

Having completely forgotten about the game, Tony swallows thickly before speaking on. “My father didn’t want me, so he intended to- to sell me off to his clients, but mom threatened to commit suicide if he did it, so he... let me stay. But when he found out I was gay, he... tried to turn me straight by forcing me to rape women and girls they had kidnapped."

Peter seems rather shocked." D-Did you never try to run?"

"And go where? I mean, at fifteen I left for college, as you probably know, but even though I graduated with summa cum laude only two years later, I came back. I just… didn’t want to leave my mom alone with him anymore. With me gone, he let out all his… _anger_ on her. She was the best mother you could think of, so when he shot her, I- I lost it. I killed him with his own gun.”

"How come they never suspected you?”

“I knocked him out before shooting him… I made it look like he committed suicide. Jarv- um, our old butler helped me cover it up by shooting _me_ in the shoulder, making it look like my father had tried to kill me as well before committing.”

“I’m… really sorry this happened to you, sir.”

Only now, Tony realizes that he’s taken Peter's bait, giving him what he wanted by venting like a fucking weakling whining about every single shit nobody cares about. _Fuck._

“You know what the difference between you and me is? I’m not a whiny little bitch like you. I accept that I can’t change anything about it. Life isn’t a romance novel or a fucking fairy tale. It’s fucking brutal.” Tony gets up, taking a long sip from a bottle of Bourbon while glaring daggers at Peter. _That fucking kid._ “If you ever tell anyone about this, I’m _really_ gonna stick my knife up your ass, is that clear?”

There’s an odd kind of defiance sparkling in Peter’s eyes. “Do you think your mom would be proud of you, sir?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Tony screams, raging with fury. “Do you want me to cut off your fucking tongue?”

“I’m sorry, that was… really inappropriate,” Peter apologizes, even sounding somewhat sincere. “I just want to _understand_ , sir. You’re so smart… after your dad and his business were dead, couldn't you have lived a n-normal life?”

Snorting, Tony takes another sip before putting the bottle back. “You’re so fucking naïve. Not unlike… me, I admit. I tried, but no decent person wanted to work with the son of Howard Stark. Since the state took away all of my dad’s estates, I was left with _nothing._ And the day I got out of the hospital, one of my dad’s old mafia clients already tried to kill me. The FBI didn’t really give a shit; they were _scared_. You should know that my dad’s clients weren’t just gangsters. He also sold to doctors, teachers, judges, _politicians…_ Me getting killed by an angry former customer would have played right into their hands.”

"But w-why did they try to kill you?”

“Because they all feared I would leak my father’s secret records listing every fucking person he had ever sold to or worked with. Only I knew where he kept those… the FBI never found them. With the help of Rhodey, I laid low for a while, but eventually, I found the guts to use the records as a weapon against some of my father’s most dangerous clients… I turned the tables, so to speak, by blackmailing and killing _them_ one by one. Soon enough, every mob boss around New York feared or – at least - respected me, so I… had free rein and started doing my own thing with people I trusted. I... really don’t need my fucking _slave_ to make me aware that this isn't what my mom would have wanted for me. I know that myself.”

The word ‘slave’ seems to put Peter back in place because his courage promptly vanishes. “I- I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have- I am sorry, please forgive me, sir.”

It’s odd, but for some reason, Tony isn’t even that mad at him anymore. They’ve been stuck with each other in this tiny house for five months now; it’s normal that the boy’s interested… it even shows he cares, somewhat, doesn’t it?

“Just… get this in your fucking head: I am _irredeemable_. There is no need for you to victimize and… feel sorry for me. I made my choices in life, just like you made yours. That being said, I never want you to mention my father – or mother - _ever_ again.”

“I won’t, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I hope so. Now get on your knees and let me fuck you. I answered more questions than you, so I guess it’s fair to say that I won because I don’t feel like continuing to play. You’ll get punished tomorrow.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony releases himself inside of Peter.

“I gotta hand it to you, though,” he pants, rolling off him. “That fucking ‘truth of lose’ game was a rather sneaky, but brilliant move.”

Peter flashes him a somewhat shy smile. “That's because I only learned from the best, sir.”

For the punishment the following day, Tony has thought of something special. “I thought… Instead of a knife, I could stick _this_ up your ass.” He holds up the vibrating plug Peter’s used to already, but when the teen instinctively sighs in relief, Tony chuckles. “Don’t start celebrating just yet. Undress and lay down on my lap, ass up.”

Looking nervous now, Peter obliges. After Tony’s slipped the plug in, he turns it on, smiling when the boy immediately moans quietly. _He’s taught him so well._ “Remember that spanking on the beach the day after we arrived on the island?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“How many blows do you think are appropriate for disobeying my direct orders like a naughty little child? We did thirty for you disrespecting and talking back to me. If you don’t make an appropriate suggestion, I’ll double whatever you propose.”

“I- I don’t… um, f-forty-five, sir?”

Tony smiles, caressing Peter’s cheek. “Good boy. I want you to count for me. Don’t lose count or we’ll do more.”

“O-Okay.”

Tony puts on a leather glove as some sort of protection for his own hand, but he doesn’t intend to hit Peter as badly as last time. Not even close. This is more… for _fun,_ hence the plug. Peter still gasps when Tony’s hand comes down for the first time. However, given by the _hard_ thing pressing against the man’s lap, Peter seems more aroused than hurt. _For now_. “O-One.”

With every slap, the plug jiggles a bit, often pressing against Peter’s prostate. Soon enough, the boy is rutting against Tony’s lap like the perfect little _slut_ he has become, whining and panting. “T-Twenty-three… s-sir, I- I think I might cum if you- can I please cum, sir?”

Tony tuts. “But this is supposed to be a punishment, baby boy.” SMACK.

“Twenty-four,” Peter hisses, trying to dig his fingers into the cushion of the sofa. At thirty, Tony increases the vibrations as well as the intensity of his blows, causing the boy to sob in pleasure and pain. “Oh god, sir, please… I can’t hold it back any longer. Please let me cum I’ll- I’ll take fifty, _please!_ ”

 _He’s so cute when he begs._ Almost as cute as when he orgasms… “Deal.”

“Thank you, sir, thank yo- _oh god!”_ Peter’s whole body is shaking as he climaxes, besmirching Tony’s pants and the sofa. Smirking nastily, Tony lets his hand come down three times during. Just like he thought, Peter’s too distracted by his orgasm to count. Instead, he starts squirming pretty badly when the plug doesn’t stop vibrating. “Please, stop, sir.”

“But we aren’t done, yet, you needy little _slut_. There’s still seventeen to go.”

“Please, sir, j-just turn it off.”

Tony laughs, squeezing Peter’s angrily red butt cheek. “When will you ever learn that ejaculating too soon will leave you overstimulated.”

“Please I’ll- I’ll t-take fifty-five.”

“You forgot to count the last three.”

“F-Fine, sixty then, o-oh god, please, sir.”

It’s getting harder to hold him down, and since Tony doesn’t want to interrupt the spanking only to restrain him, he turns the vibrations off. “All right. You sure you can do sixty, though? Makes me think I’m going too easy on you.”

Peter starts sobbing at this. Since Tony doesn’t want to actually scare or hurt him too badly, he submits a different offer. “How about this: We’ll keep it at forty-five. In return, the plug stays in – without vibrations – and you’ll suck me off after we’re done.”

“O-Okay… Thank you, sir, thank you so much.”

_Life couldn’t be more perfect._

“No. No they didn’t just- oh my god, I can’t fucking believe they’d do that! They can’t be fucking _dead!_ Please tell me they’re not dead.”

“They are.”

“What the fuck? I hate this fucking show. I’ll never watch this shit again.”

Peter stares at the screen in complete disbelief as Tony chuckles at his excessive use of swear words. _It’s so cute how emotional he gets when watching Game of Thrones._ ~~Although Tony could do without the light anxiety attacks Peter sometimes gets when watching a rape scene. That’s less cute than heartbreaking.~~ “ _Or_ we’ll stay in bed the whole day and watch a few more episodes. I promise you’ll still like it.”

“How? They’re all _dead._ ”

“Well, it is called the ‘ _Red_ Wedding’ for a reason,” Tony laughs, casually draping his arm around Peter. “Speaking of… You’re invited to Nat’s and Bruce’s wedding in three days.”

The boy quickly turns his head, gaping. “They’re actually getting married?”

“Yeah. Princess Shuri can legally marry couples by Wakandan law. I think it’s time I can trust you enough not to pull any stupid stunts, so… if you promise to be good, I’ll let you come with me.”

For some reason, Peter seems less excited than Tony expected. “Sure, sir. Thank you.”

In the days that follow, it only gets worse. When the day of the wedding has come, the boy is visibly terrified, mostly staring into the void throughout breakfast. More than once he winces when Tony addresses him.

When it’s finally time to go join the others at 11 am, Peter hesitates, refusing to walk out of the house. “May I… May I stay here after all, sir?”

“What? Why?”

“I- I just… want to stay home. Please.”

 _Home..._ “Nobody’s going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tony soothes. “No bets or tricks, this time. Natasha and Bruce _really_ want to see you.”

“P-Promise?”

Before he knows what he’s doing, Tony holds out his hand, smiling encouragingly. “Promise. You can trust me.”

His heart skips a beat when Peter slowly reaches out, taking it. “O-Okay. I trust you, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not the most exciting chapter, but I finally wanted to reveal more of Tony’s past. It doesn’t make him in any way redeemable, but he’s a complex character and I wanted to show that he wasn't 'born evil'. I also hope you didn't mind to see another spanking, but I ~~think it's hot~~ wanted to show how different Peter and Tony are during punishments now.  
> In other news, I’ve completed my brainstorming and planning… there will be **three** more chapters. And ideas on the ending? 👀 Taking bets... lmao


	33. Thirty-Second (Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Nat's and Bruce's wedding, Peter comes to a shocking realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe) for beta-reading ❤️

Reluctantly, Peter lets Tony pull him out of the house. A few weeks ago, he might have given a lot to be allowed outside or see Nat and Bruce again, but now, after all this time, he’d rather stay home.

It’s _hot_ and so fucking bright that Peter can barely see as he stumbles after Tony, causing him to trip a bunch of times. “Can’t you walk? Is it your leg?”

Ever since Peter has told him about his ongoing issues with his left hand, Tony has also started to inquire about his leg whenever Peter limps a little. “No, sorry, sir, it’s just… so bright.”

“Oh… um, here,” Tony mumbles, offering him his pair of sunglasses. Since his right hand is still intertwined with Tony’s, Peter uses his left to take it. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your welcome. By the way, T’Challa brought Nat’s mom and sister with him. They’ve been staying in Wakanda for a few years now and… they don’t really know about the heist. Or, um, _you_. And it has to stay that way.”

“Okay, sir. I won’t say anything.”

Way too soon, they’re walking towards a decorated table and some chairs standing a few yards away from the shore. Before anyone can see them coming, Tony lets go of Peter’s hand. Feeling less safe immediately, Peter tries to keep as close to Tony as possible, causing him to accidentally bump into the man when he comes to an abrupt stop.

“S-Sorry, sir,” Peter stutters. Fortunately, Tony doesn’t seem to be mad; instead, he ignores him and greets his friends. Anxiously, Peter darts his eyes to the group of people in front of them. The Avengers (including that Quill guy, T’Challa, Shuri, Scott and Carol Danvers), a pretty girl a few years older than Peter and a woman that must be Nat’s mom are all staring at him.

Whimpering quietly, Peter ducks behind Tony. “Don’t be so shy. Come on, say hello.” Putting a hand on his back, Tony gently pushes him forward.

“H-Hello.” Thank god the sunglasses are shielding his eyes from view, at least.

When Natasha comes over, Peter raises his head a bit. She looks stunning in her short, white dress, her auburn hair in a pinned up-do. “Thank you for bringing him,” she smiles, kissing Tony on both cheeks.

Then, she turns to Peter, beaming. “Hey, Pete. I’m so glad to see you.” She makes a move to embrace him, but stops when Peter shrinks back. After scowling at Tony, she returns to Bruce, who looks oddly smug wearing a white shirt and a black jacket. As Bruce flashes him a bright, encouraging smile, Peter can’t help feeling terribly shitty; he’s only been here for a minute and already made Nat upset. _Great._

He needs to pull himself together and stop being so tense and anxious. Tony _promised_ that nobody is going to hurt him.

Tony goes to sit with Steve for the ceremony, directing Peter to the seat next to him. To Peter’s relief, it’s the last seat in the row, meaning nobody can sit to his left. Although he tries, the boy finds it impossible to concentrate on the ceremony. His mind goes blank every other minute, like it does so often these days.

However, when the young Wakandan princess announces Bruce and Natasha husband and wife, Peter claps his hands just like the others do. To his right, Tony cheers and whistles, beaming at the kissing newlyweds, who look so _happy_ and… in love. It hurts to know that Peter will never be able to experience anything like it ever again, but it is what it is. At least Michelle still has the chance to get married one day and start a family with _Brad._ Or any other guy who makes her happy.

After the ceremony, they walk over to a large table decorated with a bunch of flowers. Peter’s stomach turns when he realizes they’ll have another barbeque, but he decides that this time, he’ll be a good boy and make Tony proud.

Since they’re in the shade now, Tony wants him to take off the glasses. It’s still a little too bright so Peter screws up his eyes, hoping they’d get used to it soon. He doesn’t listen to any of the conversations until Carol and Wanda, who’s sitting on Peter’s other side, quietly bring up SHIELD.

“So, they found Rhodey because of Tony, and Loki because of Rhodey. And despite Loki being the one picking up the seaplane for us, nobody recognized him there?”

_Wait, they know about Loki too?_

“Well, one employee clearly remembers seeing him _once_ , but they didn’t remember who he was with. Which is really fortunate, or they might have found the notice of receipt Brunnhilde signed. Even seaplanes have a registration and a call-sign, so they’d be able to track you down next time you use it.”

Peter is almost glad when Thor and Val serve food a moment later. He doesn’t even want to _hear_ anything about SHIELD’s failures anymore. Not after finally coming to terms with how things are.

The food brings Tony’s attention back to Peter. “What do you want?”

“Um… chicken please. And a baked potato. Thank you, sir.”

Once everyone seems ready to eat, Peter quickly ducks under the table and gets on his knees, fumbling for Tony’s belt. “Wha- oh, um, stop,” the man mumbles, peeking under the table, “Get up, kid, come on.”

Vastly confused, Peter crawls back out, face burning. “I’m sorry, sir, I thought- I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine, just… sit down, please,” Tony whispers, nervously glancing at Nat, who resembles a hawk ready to strike. “Peter was just, um-“

“Picking up my fork,” Peter lies, not daring to look her in the eye. “I… dropped it. I’m sorry.” Although he doubts that Natasha believes him, she fortunately keeps silent and starts eating.

Sighing in relief, Tony reaches over to fill Peter’s glass with wine. “No cockwarming today,” he mumbles quietly. Feeling greatly humiliated, Peter keeps his head down, picking at his food. So much for not fucking it up again… He just wanted to be _good_ …

After lunch, the Avengers urge the newlywed couple to play a bunch of stupid, though fun games and challenges. Nat and Bruce have a great time, and even though watching them is kind of entertaining, Peter misses the quietness of his and Tony’s home.

Once the games are over, Nat and Bruce demonstrate their couple dance abilities, swaying and turning to the strains of a very romantic classical song blasting from Loki’s and Thor’s Bluetooth speakers. Eventually, Bruce asks Natasha’s mother for a dance whereas Nat dances with her sister, urging their friends to join them. Some do, but Tony, most of his friends, and Peter stay seated.

Until Natasha approaches Peter, holding out her hand. “Want to dance?”

Blushing, the boy glances at Tony questioningly, who nods faintly. “Um… o-okay.”

“Great,” Natasha beams, pulling him with her. “We’ll do a few slow and easy steps. Just follow my lead.”

Not wanting to make it awkward by telling her about having danced at school dances before, Peter stays silent, slowly taking step after step. After a while, Nat quietly asks Peter how he is doing. “I’m okay. M-Mr. Stark is kind to me. He even bought me a cake for my birthday.”

“I know… he asked me if I knew which one’s your favorite.” _Wow, that’s rather sweet of him._ “So he’s not… hurting you anymore?”

“Barely. W-When he does, I mostly deserve it.”

“You never _deserve_ to be hurt.”

“I do when I break the rules. I mean… if you break the law you’ll get punished as well.”

Natasha sighs, sounding a bit choked up. “That’s different, Pete. Shit, I- I should have come to see you sometime… I really wanted to visit, but Tony– he didn’t allow it and I guess I wasn’t persistent enough. I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I fucked up majorly and deserved to be isolated.”

“No, no, no, please listen, Pete. You can’t–“ Nat breaks off when suddenly, Tony appears next to them.

“May I?” he asks, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Peter lets go of Nat’s hand and steps back, expecting Tony to replace him. Instead, Tony grabs _his_ hand, though, pulling him dangerously close. “Wanna dance with me?”

Peter gapes at him; the last thing he expected was Tony wanting to dance with _him,_ especially in front of all his friends.

“Um… of- of course, sir.” Smirking, Tony puts his free hand on the boy’s hip and places his right leg between Peter’s. Locking his eyes with Peter’s, he gently turns them around before taking a few slow steps.

It’s not nearly as awkward as Peter has feared - Tony can dance surprisingly well and since nobody around them is making any nasty comments, it’s bearable. After the song ends, Tony leads him back to the table where Steve, Sam and Bucky are sharing a joint.

“That was _cute,_ ” Sam remarks, exchanging an amused grin with Bucky. To Peter’s surprise, Tony doesn’t take the bait. 

“Gimme that.”

Still grinning, the man passes on the joint. After taking a long drag, Tony offers it to Peter. He and Tony have shared a hit multiple times over the course of the last few weeks, but since this belongs to one of the others, he only dares to take a short pull before shyly handing it to Steve, who seems a little sulky.

“Where’s Clint?”

“Teaching Carol, T’Challa and Shuri how to shoot with bow and arrow.”

“Have you ever done archery before?” Tony asks Peter, who shakes his head. “Hm… Come on. It’s fun.”

Exchanging a confused glance, his friends get up as well. After half a minute walk, they reach Clint, Carol and the two Wakandans standing a few yards away from various targets. Once more, Peter keeps close to Tony, but when the man steps forward to shoot a few arrows, he’s left behind, feeling oddly unprotected and alone. The encouraging smile Shuri flashes him doesn’t really help; it even makes it _worse,_ somehow, so Peter focuses his eyes back on Tony.

Although Tony isn’t bad, Clint, who’s shooting with a second bow, is _phenomenal_. No matter what, he always hits bullseye, even after doing something between a somersault and a flip. Seems like the rumors about ‘Hawkeye’ not just using sniper rifles for his assassinations are true after all…

“You’re such a show-off,” Tony laughs before returning to Peter. “Wanna give it a try now?”

Peter would _love_ to, but it’s Clint’s bow and he doesn’t really want to go near him. “N-No, it’s fine. Thank you, sir.”

“Come on, try it.”

“I won’t bite… or will I?” Clint jokes, causing Peter to squeak so quietly only Tony can hear. Scowling, the man marches forward to hiss something in Clint’s ear, who rolls his eyes. “All right. Jeez.”

“Something wrong?” Steve asks Tony when he comes back. 

“Nope. Come on, kid. It’ll be fun, promise.”

Peter sighs in relief when Tony stays by his side, taking one the black bows Clint hands him and a quiver with five arrows. “This one’s pulling force is 27 pounds. You should be able to handle that.”

Despite the marijuana influencing his body, Peter’s hands are trembling when he tries to imitate Clint’s movements, hoping his hand won’t fuck up again.

It’s not as easy to pull the bowstring as he thought, but it’s manageable. “Keep your eyes on the target. _Both_ of them. Aim a little higher than you instinctively would.”

Peter flinches a bit when Clint touches his bent right elbow, but he only does it to correct his posture. “Keep your elbow parallel to the ground. All right… Let go.”

The arrow flies off with a lot more speed than Peter expected. It misses the target by about an inch. “Not too bad. Try it again, but don’t aim _that_ high.”

For a second, Peter smiles grimly at the idea of turning around and reconstructing the ‘red wedding’ from Game of Thrones, slaughtering everyone around him one by one. However, he doesn’t actually consider trying it - they’d overpower him before he’d even started.

Therefore, Peter stays a _good boy_ , aiming at lifeless targets only. It’s even more fun than he expected, and for some reason neither Clint, nor any of the others make any further mean comments. Bucky even goes to fetch the arrows when Peter’s quiver is empty. He can’t shake the feeling that Tony asked them to be nice to him… _But why?_

Peter keeps shooting for ten more minutes, getting better with every arrow. Clint seems rather impressed, and so does Tony. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you, sir,” Peter smiles, grateful to get praised outside of the bedroom for once. Eventually, they walk back to the actual wedding, where Tony leaves Peter alone yet again. “Sit down at the table, will you? I’ll be back in a sec. I need to discuss some things with Danvers and T’Challa.”

Anxiously, he watches Tony leave. At least his asshole friends have stayed back with Clint, so hopefully-

“Still here, huh?” Peter promptly winces, but it’s just Loki, dropping into the empty seat next to him. “How are you doing?”

“I- I don’t think Mr. Stark would want us to talk,” Peter says, glancing around nervously.

“Relax, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I am. No thanks to _you_ , though.”

“You know, I tried to _apologize_ ,” Loki mumbles, looking at Peter meaningfully. Is he referring to the note he showed him?

“Well, I can’t … _accept_ it. It’s not _possible._ And… I want to be good for Mr. Stark.” There’s pity in Loki’s eyes now, which sends a rush of anger through Peter. _What is his problem anyway?_

“I still hope you’ll be able to _accept_ my apology someday. Oh, and - just in case things get worse again - remember how beautiful the crystal-clear water is... _no rocks_ , just the right amount of _deep_ … it’s _perfect._ ”

With this, Loki gets up and leaves. How the fuck is that supposed to help him? First of all, Peter would need the boat keys, and then, he would need to _kill_ Tony so he couldn’t track him down via the GPS chip.

And it’s not like he could just kill Tony ~~even if he wanted~~. A few weeks ago, the man finally told him what the thin, quite fancy looking bracelet around his wrist was for. Allegedly, it helps JARVIS keep track of Tony’s vital data, alerting the other Avengers in case he takes it off or receives any life-threatening injuries.

He might have bullshitted him, of course, but Peter would never dare to risk it. _Fucking Loki…_ he has no fucking clue.

Nat and her sister join Peter at the table thirty minutes later. “I haven’t officially introduced my sister yet, have I? Yelena – Peter, Peter – Yelena.”

The young woman smiles at him. “Nice to meet you.” Her Russian accent is strong.

“Hi. I’m Peter,” the boy says dully.

Natasha looks around. “Where’s Tony?”

“Talking to Ms. Danvers and Prince T’Challa.”

“He’s king now, actually,” Nat corrects. “His father passed away three weeks ago. Which has made all of _this”_ – she curtly nods her head in Yelena’s direction – “a lot easier.”

A few seconds later, Bruce hurries over. “My mistake. Wanda wants to take the photos _now_. Just us two, though.”

Still smiling, Natasha rolls her eyes. “Didn’t think this would be so tiring. All right, coming.” After exchanging a few words in Russian with her sister, she looks at Peter meaningfully. “Can I leave her with you?”

“Sure.”

“I’m so happy for my сестра,” Yelena smiles when Natasha and Bruce walk off holding hands. “They’re so cute.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you want to marry too? When you’re older?”

It feels like a stab in the heart, but Peter knows she doesn’t mean any harm. She doesn’t even know he was kidnapped. _And it needs to stay that way._ It’s not like she could – or _would -_ help him. “Um… no.”

“Maybe one day you want. You look cute together.”

“ _Together?_ ”

“You and Mister Stark.”

Peter feels as if she struck him over the head with a baseball bat. “W-We’re not, um, we’re not _together._ ”

“Ah,” she says, winking mischievously. “But you like each other, no?”

 _She can’t be serious._ “W-Why would you think that?”

“Because he looks at you like _this_.” Oblivious to Peter’s horror, Yelena giggles, giving him fake heart eyes. “And your dance – it was very cute and очевидный. It’s impossible not to see you two are a good couple. You always are close together.”

Peter has never felt more disgusted. Admitting that he has gotten _used_ to Tony and that he hates him a little less than a few months ago, maybe, is one thing, but the idea that Peter could _love_ him is grotesque. Despicable. Nasty.

Tony’s ‘feelings’, on the other hand _…_ He barely even punished Peter for asking about his father. Sure, the spanking was painful and humiliating, but even though Peter completely _despises_ himself for admitting it, it was also kind of… hot. It was very different to the spanking from a few months ago, and Tony even gave in when Peter begged him to stop the vibrations. All in all, Tony acted less like a cold-hearted rapist getting off on his victim’s cries than a guy who wanted to discipline his submissive, ‘consenting’ _boyfriend_.

And for the game, Tony explicitly forbade Peter’s questions about ‘them’, allegedly regarding ‘how badly they _disliked_ each other’. It was very _weird_ , and not the first time that Peter questioned Tony’s ‘feelings’ for him. Not to mention all those times he’s called him nicknames and taken non-sexual pictures of him… And sometimes, he really does look at Peter a little… oddly.

Well… whatever it is that’s going on with Tony, it doesn’t matter. Peter doesn’t know if there’s even a word for kidnappers falling for their victims, but even if there were, it wouldn’t change anything.

Peter can only speak for himself, and he is most certainly _not_ suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, neither in a romantic, nor in an unromantic sense. He’s only stayed close to Tony today because Peter felt… safer with him than… with the others.

 _Okay, this is… pretty fucked up. Oh god._ Peter even wanted to stay _home_ (when was the last time he thought of it as anything else? He can’t remember) than come here. Maybe he _is_ far more gone than he’s thought. _Benjamin_ was right…

 _Tony has won._ Peter literally just admitted the spanking was kind of hot and that he stayed close to his _rapist_ because he felt _safe_ with him. And didn’t he tell Nat that Tony was _kind_ to him and barely punished him unless Peter _deserved_ it? To Loki, Peter admitted that he _wanted_ to be good for Tony. He wasn’t even lying - he actually meant all these things.

_He’s completely brainwashed._

“Did I say anything wrong?” Yelena asks, looking quite upset.

“I- I just… I just have to, um, use the toilet.” _He needs to get away from here._

However, he’s barely moved when Tony comes back, sitting down. “Yelena, как дела?”

After one last apologetic look at Peter, she smiles, replying in Russian. To Peter’s surprise, Tony seems to understand it perfectly. When Tony catches him staring, he puts his hand on Peter’s thigh, squeezing gently. “What have you been talking about?”

Panic-stricken, Peter’s eyes dart to Yelena, who seems even more confused now. “I- I didn’t know you can speak Russian,” he says in a lame attempt to avoid answering the question.

“I can speak Italian, Russian, Spanish, German and Mandarin,” Tony chuckles, fortunately taking the bait. “Can’t hurt to speak a few languages. I can teach you some day if you want.”

“I’d love to, um, thank you. May I use the toilet, please?”

Smiling apologetically at Yelena, Tony nods. “Sure, I’ll come with you. Closest house is Wanda’s.”

“How come Yelena and her mother haven’t heard or seen anything about the heist?” Peter asks as soon as they’re a few yards away.

“Because Wakanda blocks a lot of foreign news channels, websites and social media, kind of like China or North Korea, even, because they barely let anyone in or out of the country. Olga and Yelena know about Natasha’s past, obviously, but no details about any of us. Even though they’d never risk putting her in any danger, it’s better not to let them know too much. I hope you didn’t say anything you’re not supposed to.”

Not wanting to let Tony know that Nat once told him about her past and Tony’s part in it, he doesn’t inquire about it. “I didn’t, sir.”

An hour later, Nat and Bruce call them for a bunch of group photos. They insist that Peter participates in it. “You’re family,” Natasha explains when Peter acts coyly.

 _Family?_ His eyes start to burn when Tony puts his arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him close for the photo. That’s so sweet of her… it really is, but _May_ is his true family _._ Nobody else. _Gosh, he misses her so much._ If only he could see her one more time and tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was for getting himself into this fucking mess…

Not wanting to ruin Nat’s _family picture_ by crying, Peter quickly wipes the tears from his eyes and tries to smile. In a desperate need of comfort, he instinctively leans closer to Tony, resting his head against the crook of Tony’s neck.

If this is _wrong_ , then why does it feel so _right?_

When has Peter started to seek comfort in the arms of his rapist instead of being disgusted by his sheer presence? If May knew about it, would she be as disappointed in Peter like Mrs. Stark would be in Tony?

Ever since Tony told him about his past, Peter hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the irony of his mother’s fate and his own. Both Maria Stark and Peter were forcefully taken from their home and held captive as a sex-slave-slash-lover by a relentless criminal mastermind. Despite hating his father for mistreating her – and him - Tony unfortunately never managed to overcome his trauma. Instead, he even turned into the one thing he despised and – eventually – killed. By kidnapping Peter, Tony somewhat repeated history, but apparently fails to see the parallels between his beloved mom and Peter.

Although… even if he saw it, it probably wouldn’t change anything. Tony said it himself – he’s _irredeemable_. A narcissistic sadist and rapist. A murderer. _A_ _monster,_ created by a shitty, abusive father and tragic occurrences.

And yet, Peter is leaning against him, almost wishing he would actually hug him for once... and without any ulterior motives. Just like a father would... or a friend _._

Although Peter can’t imagine ever harming another human being the way Tony harmed him, he’s already brainwashed to a point where he’s almost lost himself completely. Just like it happened to Natasha, who – despite not turning into a rapist – still turned into a killer.

If Peter wants to break the vicious cycle, he needs to knock some sense into himself and grow some balls again.

If Tony actually _likes_ him in a way, then he probably won’t kill Peter anytime soon. And maybe - if Tony’s convinced that Peter _likes him too –_ there might be a way out of this fucking mess. He just… has to be careful and not _overdo_ it.

Luckily, thanks to SHIELD being completely useless and incapable of doing their job, Tony and the Avengers feel safe enough to come together and celebrate weddings. Since they aren’t in any haste to run off or relocate, Peter might have enough time to come up with a good plan.

Peter’s eyes glisten with determination as he comes to a final decision. Feeling a strange kind of calming peace, he stares straight into the camera, smiling brightly.

He will get the boat keys… or die trying. He’s in the endgame now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last line is CRINGE as FUCK but ay, I like MCU references 🤣 Fight me. Guess this chapter crushed a few theories, hm?  
> Also, in case you don’t have enough of this shit already, I posted my first “drabble” (which turned into a 7.6k **two** shot). In case you want to read it and haven’t yet, **[click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751497) **. It’s not going to be for everyone though (!) - it’s a surprisingly “non-violent” foursome between Tony, Peter, Bucky and Steve, so only click it if you are sure you wanna read it. It’s not necessary though because it won’t influence the plot of the main story.


	34. Thirty-Three (Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony struggles with his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted the second chapter of the [One Shot & Drabble fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751497/chapters/62823739), in case you wanna read :)  
> \--  
> Thank you to my lovely beta **Harishe** 💕💕 And a big shout out to my soulsister **Stargirl2000** , whose comment to the last chapter inspired me to make a last minute change and include "kid, you're an Avenger now" 💕💕 I can't believe I didn't think of this famous MCU reference myself aaah.

Tony’s lips curl into a smile as Peter leans into his touch. The boy has been acting unexpectedly _needy_ today - like a child looking for protection and comfort. It feels very nice. Seems as if the three-month-long isolation has served its purpose after all…

When they are done with the pictures, Tony notices that Peter seems a little out of it. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing, sir, I just... I'm not the biggest fan of posing for pictures."

"Well, kid, you're an Avenger now," Tony grins, trying to lighten up Peter's mood a bit. "Besides, I don't think you can look anything _but_ pretty in pictures."

His cock twitches when Peter blushes. "Um... th-thank you, sir."

Whereas some of the Avengers offer to help Nat and her family with the wedding dinner preparations now, T’Challa asks Tony to drive him to Powell Cay, a large, empty island up for sale only two miles northwest.

Getting ready to fetch the boat keys, Tony tells Peter to wait, flashing his friends another warning glance. Ever since he’s ~~developed a crush~~ gotten rather possessive of Peter, Tony’s been somewhat bothered by them being nasty to him, and because he’s feared they’d intimidate or bother him at the wedding, he even told them to back off beforehand. So far, they’ve actually been acting pretty decent for once, and he hopes it will stay that way. 

When Tony gets back, he finds Peter standing alone next to a palm tree, looking like an abandoned puppy desperately waiting for his owner. For a second, Tony chuckles at the idea of Peter’s ‘ _tail’_ wiggling excitedly when he sees him coming back - wishful thinking. “Hey, I’ll go on a short boat trip with T’Challa. Talk to Bruce or something, will you?”

“May I- May I come with you, sir? Please?” Peter asks, looking oddly interested.

“Are you out of your mind? No.”

Obviously hurt about the harsh rejection, the boy drops his head. “O-Oh. Um. Okay, sorry I asked, I didn’t mean to- um, have fun, sir, sorry.”

Tony can’t help getting mad at himself for being so rude. The boy probably didn’t even have any second thoughts. “Why did you ask?”

“I just… don’t want to bother anyone, sir. And my uncle… we, um, used to go to a lake in summer and drive around with a rental boat. I always loved it.”

Although it does seem a little fishy, it also warms Tony’s heart, so he decides to be nice. It’s not like the boy could overpower them and drive off with the boat. First of all, he wouldn’t even know where to go since most islands around here are uninhabited, and secondly, they would be able to track and catch up to him in no time with the second speed boat they recently bought.

“Hm. All right, but no tricks, okay?”

“Of course not. Thank you so much, sir.”

“I’ll tie your hands.”

“If you… want, sir.”

 _Hm._ Just in case, Tony asks Thor, Steve and Bucky to come along. At the jetty, they walk past the small yacht T’Challa rented and climb into the motorboat. Whereas Thor and T’Challa sit down in the front, the other four take the back seats. As announced, Tony uses a zip-tie to bind Peter’s hands behind his back.

“J-Just don’t let me f-fall out, please, sir,” Peter stutters when the boat swings.

“I won’t. Promise.”

It’s a short ride to Powell Cay, and since Tony doesn’t want to leave Peter behind by himself, he asks Thor to keep an eye on him while he, Steve and Bucky go with T'Challa. Just in case, he also takes the keys with him. 

Why T’Challa has taken such an interest in the big, ragged island will always remain a mystery to Tony. The four men walk along the beach for about fifteen minutes, waiting patiently whenever the king takes pictures.

When Bucky engages T’Challa in a conversation about the _snakes_ that are supposed to live in the small jungle covering most of the island, Steve quietly asks why Tony brought the boy. 

“Because he asked me to.”

“So you just… wanted to be nice?”

“Yeah. Anything wrong with that?”

“Are you sure you aren’t like… in love with him?”

Thankfully, Tony’s too enraged about Steve’s question to blush. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? ’Course I am not ‘in love’ with him, are you on drugs? You obviously have no idea how these things work. I can’t punish him all the time, especially not when he shows good behavior. I sometimes have to be nice if I want him to… _respect_ me enough not to try and run away again. It’s not easy to break someone and get them to develop Stockholm Syndrome, as I’ve already explained multiple times.”

“Just saying. I know you better than anyone else and… sometimes I think the kid has broken you more than you have broken him.”

Tony wants to _strangle_ him, but before he can, T’Challa announces that he’s seen enough. Back at the boat, they find Thor pointing at something on the dashboard, and Peter, apparently impressed, saying, “That’s so cool."

“What’s cool?” Tony leerily asks, climbing in.

“The speed, sir. Mr. Thor told me how fast the boat can go.”

Snorting at ‘Mr. Thor’, Tony gives the keys back to the blonde man. “U-huh. Faster than the boats your dad rented?”

“My _uncle_ , sir. I mean, I don’t know how fast those were, but they were pretty slow.”

Grinning, Tony asks Thor to show off his skills when driving back. Once they’re all safely seated, Thor speeds up so quickly that the force of the motion presses them into their seats. He drives a few elegant curves before jumping waves, causing water to splash up the sides of the boat.

Since Peter can’t really hold onto anything due to his tied hands, he’s thrown around quite a bit. Instinctively, Tony grabs his arm to keep him somewhat steady, not wanting to risk him actually falling overboard. The boy doesn’t seem scared anymore, though; instead, he’s laughing gleefully as the splashing water rains down on them. It’s _beautiful._

After a few minutes of fun, Tony tells Thor to drive them back to Bonefish Cay; Nat will kill them if they miss dinner.

“Thank you so much, sir,” Peter beams when they get back onto the jetty. “That was fun.”

With a smile, Tony helps him out of the boat. “Glad you enjoyed it,” he says without thinking, reprimanding himself right after. _Don’t be_ that _nice and obvious, Jesus Christ._

Greatly irritated at himself and the incredulous look Steve flashes him, Tony cuts through the zip tie. “Now get a fucking move on.” 

He gives Peter an impatient shove, which causes him to trip and fall face forward into the sand. _Shit._

Not wanting to make even more of a fool of himself, Tony snaps at Steve and Bucky to accompany Peter back to the table before strutting away without an apology, Steve’s words still ringing in his ears. _‘The kid has broken you more than you have broken him_. _’_

What a fucking idiot. However, what bugs Tony most is that it might be true. He’s always expected (or rather, _hoped_ ) that Peter would come around some day and develop Stockholm Syndrome, but he never intended to get infatuated by the teen himself.

The thing is… Peter’s broken and obedient, sure, but he doesn’t seem to like Tony as much as Tony likes _him._ Which is a real fucking problem. _It’s supposed to be the other way round._

Although Tony has no idea yet on how to solve this problem, he knows it can’t go on like this forever… he will either have to admit that he ~~loves~~ likes Peter one day and wait for his response, or… kill him and act like it never happened.

After locking the boat keys into his safe, Tony goes back to the party. As he walks past the table used for the ceremony, he can’t help imagining himself and the kid in front of it. For a few seconds, the prospect of legally binding Peter to him for all ‘eternity’ doesn’t even seem _that_ absurd… But then, Tony cringes at the cheesy, completely ridiculous and _fucked-up_ thought.

Kidnappers don’t marry their victims. ~~Especially not due to a mutual, strong affection.~~

Looking nervous, Peter glances up when Tony drops down into the chair next to him. There’s still some sand in his chestnut curls and on his eyelashes. It’s not the first time Tony wonders how male eyelashes can be so long and-

“I’m talking to you.”

“What?”

Blushing, Tony turns his head towards Rhodey, who looks at him rather amusedly. _God dammit,_ _why can’t he stop crushing on the kid today?!_

After dinner, the drinking starts, but today, Tony takes care that neither he, nor Peter drink too much. At midnight, those who aren’t too wasted (or drugged) already go and sit around the bonfire, smoking cigarettes and indulging in memories. Eventually, the only ones left are Tony, Peter, Rhodey, Sam and Clint, with the latter all falling asleep one by one. Until it’s just the two of them.

“Pretty romantic,” Peter mumbles after a few quiet minutes, looking extremely tired as he flicks his cigarette into the bonfire. It’s the first time he’s spoken since getting off the boat.

At first, Tony ignores him, but when Rhodey snores loudly, he involuntarily chuckles. “Or not.”

“Yeah,” Peter giggles. “Guess I’ll have to take it back.”

Feeling rather awkward for some reason, Tony takes a sip from his beer. Glancing at him, Peter reaches for it. “May I?” 

Reluctantly, Tony gives it to him, trying not to think of that fatal sunset kiss that changed so much. “One sip… you’ve already had two beers and two tequilas. Don’t want you to get all emotional again.”

“No worries, sir. I’m not drunk. I do feel a little… needy, though.”

“ _Needy?”_

“Well, you know… _horny_.” Although it’s quite dark, Tony can see Peter blushing. What the fuck is he implying? That he wants to have sex right now? In front of the others? Even though they are sleeping, they could wake up any second and- “Sorry for being awkward, sir, I just… I’ve never had sex on the beach before and I somehow doubt it’s as romantic as it sounds. I mean, the sand is probably pretty nasty, right?”

As Peter flashes him a shy and extremely adorable smile, Tony’s pants get embarrassingly tight. _Fuck._ This has to stop. He can’t always get excited whenever that fucking _kid_ does nothing more than smile at him stupidly. On the other hand, if he so desperately wants to be fucked… Peter has never been so calm about it before. The boy _wants_ this, and he’s not even drunk; a little tipsy, _at most._

Within a few seconds, Tony is towering over him. “You better stay silent if you don’t want to give them a show,” he growls, nodding his head in the direction of his sleeping friends. “On your knees.”

“Shouldn’t I… suck you off for a bit, sir?”

“No,” Tony says, pulling Peter’s shorts down to his ankles as soon as he’s kneeling. 

Fear sparkles in Peter’s eyes when Tony lazily fingers him open for only a few seconds. “Please, sir… _ah,_ it- it hurts.”

“Keep quiet.”

He lines himself up way too soon, causing Peter to gasp and hiss in pain as he tries to push in. “S-Sir, I can’t- It’s so dry, please… I’m sorry about w-whatever it is that I did, but p-please be careful.”

Tony halts. “You didn’t do anything.”

“W-Why are you hurting me, then?”

With a growl, Tony grabs his hair, tilting his head back. “Are you trying to tell me when and why I am _‘allowed’_ to hurt you?”

“N-No, sir, I am yours, you can hurt me whenever you like. Forgive me, sir, please, I’m sorry.”

As tears stream down Peter’s cheeks, Tony’s stomach turns. _Nononono…_ it’s been ages since Peter cried during sex - at least because it hurt him. It’s not Peter’s fucking fault that Tony’s unable to get his shit together. ~~Actually, it _is_ kind of Peter’s fault (he’s just too goddamn _perfect_ ), but seeing him cry or in obvious pain doesn’t make Tony feel as good anymore as it does to see him smile.~~

“Um… no, you’re right. It’s not, um, pleasurable like this… We’ll do it your way. Suck me off and then climb onto my lap. You can set the pace.”

Looking a tad bit relieved, Peter does what he’s told. After making Tony’s cock wet enough, he quickly undresses and gets onto Tony’s lap, carefully lowering himself onto his leaking cock. Before Tony knows what hits him, Peter tilts his head and kisses him, gently and almost affectionately. Peter is kissing _him._ Not the other way round… _Maybe the feeling’s mutual after all?_

The boy eventually breaks the kiss to pull Tony’s shirt off his body. Then, he wraps his legs around Tony’s waist and starts rocking his hips. Moaning quietly, Peter eventually changes his current position so he can actually bounce himself on Tony’s cock. Whilst propping himself up with his right arm, his left arm wraps around Tony’s neck for support. The boy locks eyes with Tony and moves faster, panting and moaning as quietly as he can. He looks _hotter_ than ever, his torso – illuminated by the bonfire - glistening with sweat.

Tony wraps his hand around Peter’s proud erection, pumping it in sync to the boy’s movements. They almost reach their climaxes simultaneously. Luckily, his friends are fast asleep because Peter’s rather loud when he cums, squirting all over his and Tony’s chests.

“Fuck, that was… really good,” Tony groans, pulling him closer. _Not to mention, romantic…_ “Let’s go home, baby… it was a long, exciting day.”

Since Peter seems too tired to walk properly, Tony picks him up, carrying him back to the house bridal style. He’s asleep before they even get there, and as Tony carefully lies him down onto the soft mattress, he feels so much affection for Peter that it hurts.

The following days, Tony isn’t home much. Even though he considers letting Peter join him and the others for various activities they do, he leaves him locked-up in the house apart from a few meals, mainly because Tony’s concerned that too much contact with the others could negatively influence Peter and make him less devoted again.

After a week, Olga, Yelena, T’Challa, Shuri, Carol, Scott and Quill leave the island. Despite the rainy weather, the Avengers – including Peter – have come together on the beach to tell them goodbye.

Natasha, always so strong and controlled, can’t stop sobbing as she hugs her family one final time. Peter seems rather touched by it; his eyes are visibly red and he sniffles, probably missing his aunt… Unfortunately, that’s not something Tony can help him with. It’s just the way it is.

They keep standing on the beach and watch the yacht drive away until the rain gets too strong. To lighten up ~~Peter’s~~ Nat’s mood, Tony invites Natasha and Bruce into his house for a drink and some rounds of UNO. Surprised, yet delighted, they agree. 

As it turns out, playing with Peter and two of his oldest friends is a lot of fun, nevertheless ~~beautifully~~ alarmingly domestic. 

“You all suck so bad.” With a triumphant laugh, Peter throws his last card onto the table, marking his fourth victory in a row. Before Tony can yell at him for being insolent, though, Nat and Bruce join in Peter's laughter and wholeheartedly congratulate him. _Guess he shouldn’t take everything so seriously…_

“Thanks so much, Tony, I really needed this,” Natasha sighs when they go, smiling sadly.

“Hey, cheer up, all right? If things work out, you’ll see them again before you even know it.”

“Yeah, _if_ they work out… you know it could mean war for Wakanda.”

“I hardly doubt it. We’re going to be really careful. I promise.” He gives her a quick hug goodbye and closes the door. 

“What could mean war for Wakanda?” Peter promptly asks, sounding a bit anxious.

After pondering about it for a few seconds, Tony decides to be honest, intrigued how the boy’s going to react. “We might relocate to Wakanda in a few weeks.”

Peter’s eyes widen in shock. “W-What? Why?”

“For various reasons. Mostly because SHIELD still hasn’t given up completely. Fury even temporarily transferred his team to a bigger city around here… stubborn little bitch. Thankfully, he’s mostly grasping at straws for now, but we still have about two months of Hurricane season ahead of us. Today is the third time one is passing by at a rather safe distance, and it’s only a matter of time until one will hit us or force us to evacuate and seek shelter somewhere else for a few days. With all the bounties on our heads, we have nowhere to go.”

A few seconds later, the lights flicker, going out for a short moment. Grinning, Tony adds, “Besides, I don’t have enough arc reactors for all houses. These blackouts are annoying as fuck.”

Although they’ve had blackouts before the start of the Hurricane season in July as well, they’ve lately increased in quantity. Tony, Bruce and Rhodey don’t care _that_ much because their houses have an arc reactor connected to the junction box - which takes over whenever the power supply goes out - but the others complain about it all the time.

Peter seems completely taken aback at the news. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “I- I guess that means you’re going to kill me s-soon?”

Tony’s stomach turns at the thought, and he struggles to keep a straight face. “Since when do you care? Thought you’d rather want to be dead anyways.”

“This was… before you gave my life meaning again, sir.”

“I gave it meaning?” Tony leans forward, heart skipping a beat. _Could this mean…?_ “How?”

Peter keeps his eyes on the ground. “By… l-letting me have nice things when I’m good. And… I don’t know, I just…” Tears stream down his eyes when he finally looks up. “I like to be around you. It makes me feel… _s-safe_. Making you happy makes _me_ happy. I love to be your good boy and I… I like it when you call me… names, sir.”

 _It’s like a dream come true._ “What names?” Tony asks hoarsely, coming closer.

Peter’s face turns crimson read. “When you… when you call me… b-baby. Or… just Peter. Names make it… more personal, kind of. M-More real.”

Without thinking, Tony asks, “How would you feel if I asked you to call me Tony?”

Peter’s mouth drops open. “Um… I would feel honored, sir- I mean… _T-Tony_.”

Groaning, Tony cups the boy’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. It sounds nice to hear Peter say his name, and yet… Should he risk losing all of the respect he’s built up so arduously? Breaking the kiss, Tony sighs. “You know what? I’ll think about it. For now, though, stick to _sir_. Please.”

“Of course, sir. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you. And to answer your question about whether I’m going to kill you: that depends on when and _how_ we would get there. That’s all you need to know. Now, how about we stop talking and start fucking?”

The next day, Peter starts to act a little weird. Some days, he’s on his best behavior, acting refreshingly vivid. He even offers to clean the whole house, humming quietly while he’s scrubbing and dusting every single inch as tidy as possible. He almost means _too_ well - to Tony’s annoyance, Peter triggers JARVIS deafening alarm when he accidentally disconnects one of the living-kitchen room cameras.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Visibly bracing himself, he waits for Tony’s blow.

“Was it your hand again?”

“Um… n-no, I was just clumsy and… too forceful with the dusting.”

As a reward for being honest, Tony doesn’t hit him; instead, he suggests his newest, most favorite punishment. “Guess you need a little spanking, huh?”

His voice is dripping with arousal, and when Peter lips curl into a shy, somewhat abashed smile, his cock twitches excitedly. “I… guess so, sir.” Is the boy _blushing?_

On other days, however, Peter is clearly nervous and upset, especially whenever he doesn’t find something to distract himself with. Tony almost hopes it’s due to him being worried about getting killed - after all, it would show that he’s actually come around and retrieved his will to live.

One rainy day in the midst of September, Peter wakes up coughing. “My throat feels sore, sir. It hurts whenever I swallow.”

“And here I thought you mastered deep-throating months ago,” Tony jokes. “Guess I was too rough last night, huh?”

“No, it feels different. Like… a cold.”

Even though the thermometer doesn’t show an elevated temperature, Tony can’t deny that Peter looks rather sick; he’s paler than usual (which says a lot) and he’s even trembling a little. “Hm. All right, just… stay on the couch and get some rest. I’ll make you tea.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you, sir.”

For lunch, Tony even offers to make soup. Smiling, Peter thanks him before being overcome by another coughing fit. It’s hard not to get irritated; Tony _hates_ it when someone’s sick, first and foremost if it’s himself, so the last thing he wants is catch an infection. _Guess the day is done with._

At 4 pm, Tony takes Peter’s temperature again. “Hm. At least you don’t have a fever. I’ll run a bath for you later, it will help with the cold.”

“Thank you so much for caring about me, sir. I- I wish I could show you how grateful I am.”

“It’s okay. You can repay me when you’re better.”

“I’m sorry for fucking up your day… you r-really don’t have to stay here and listen to me being miserable.”

“It’s fine. It’s raining anyway.”

Tony deeply regrets saying that when a few minutes later, Peter retches, barely making it to the toilet in time. Tony stays in the living room, face distorted in disgust. When Peter comes back, looking like _death_ in persona, Tony decides to run after all. “Um, you know what, I’ll go to Rhodey for a couple of hours. Can I leave you by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll just sleep and… may I make myself another tea, sir?”

“Sure. I can make it for you, though.”

“Thank you, sir, but I feel a little… nauseous, still. Just leave me the saucepan, please.”

“All right. I’ll be back around six. Try not to throw up again.”

At 5:25, the bracelet on Tony’s wrist beeps, signaling JARVIS’ ICE protocol has deactivated. Normally, there’s nothing to worry about because it reactivates in a few seconds, but to his greatest confusion, it stays dead this time. His phone won’t let him connect to JARVIS either, which could only mean one thing – the power is still out.

“Goddammit,” he curses, greatly annoyed by his own tech failing. After looking at Rhodey’s running AC, he sighs. “At least your arc reactor seems to be working.”

“I don’t think my power even went out, though,” Rhodey says, frowning. “Normally, I have to switch the AC back on whenever I have a short blackout, but if it’s still running...”

Groaning, Tony gets up, throwing his poker cards onto the table. “Well, guess I’ll have to leave early or my food will defrost. Thanks for the game.”

Rhodey chuckles when he catches a glimpse of Tony’s cards. “Ah, I see. You just made this up because you knew I’d _destroy_ you with this hand, right? Admit it.”

“Very funny,” Tony pouts, though grinning at the tease. “I’ll make up for it later. After dinner, maybe? Kid has a cold, so I have time anyway.”

After jogging back through the rain, Tony unlocks the door. The boy is standing next to the kitchen table, looking a bit shaken. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know, sir, I, um, I was just boiling water for my tea and then the p-power went out.” He points at the saucepan on the stove.

Frowning, Tony goes into the storage room, opening the little door of the breaker box. As suspected, the arc reactor is still connected, but dead. Irritated, Tony unplugs it and tries to turn the power back on. The bracelet beeps, signaling that JARVIS is back up and running again.

“Seems like it’s just a short circuit instead of a blackout,” Tony says, going back into the living-kitchen area. Peter is back at the stove, clasping the stem of the saucepan. “JARVIS, any idea what could have caused it?”

However, JARVIS stays silent. Groaning in annoyance, Tony fetches his phone from his pocket and opens the app. The system is running, so why isn’t it responding? Bewildered, he scrolls down, gasping when he sees that all five living-kitchen-room cameras (and with it, the inbuilt microphones and speakers) are deactivated. “What the-“

It’s too late to react when from the corner of his eye, Tony registers Peter swinging his arm. He’s barely moved when hot water is splashed onto his torso and face, causing him to squall in agony. The shock and pain causes Tony to drop his phone, and before he can do anything - before he can even _think -_ a burning, steely object connects with the left side of his head, knocking the man off his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still taking bets...


	35. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries to escape Bonefish Cay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Harishe for beta-reading <3  
> Hope you’re ready for the extra-long (4.8k) finale… 🙈 *hides*  
> Yes, I renamed the island to its real name

There are so many things that could have gone wrong.

Tony could have come back way too early. He could have come back way too late.

He could have taken Rhodey with him or stayed home altogether.

It’s not like everything went as smoothly as Peter had hoped. He had planned to try a few combinations on the battery-driven safe while he was still alone, but Tony was back faster than expected. Peter had barely had time to disconnect the last camera before Tony came bursting through the door, heading straight for the storeroom.

Knowing he had to execute plan B, Peter quickly went back to the stove, relieved to see that the water he had been boiling before cutting off power was still hot. Splashing Tony with it certainly gave Peter an advantage, because it incapacitated him for the few seconds it took Peter to gather up his courage and knock the man out with the saucepan.

Or rather, knock him _down_. Tony lies there groaning, his face red from the hot water. ~~Good~~ Bad thing it wasn’t boiling… To Peter’s greatest relief, Tony seems dazed and unable to move - for now, at least. 

Shaking all over, he runs into the storeroom to cut off power once more, cursing when he sees that Tony exchanged the manipulated arc reactor for a new one. Peter won’t have time to manipulate this one too… Well, it’s what he expected anyway, which is another reason why he deactivated the cameras beforehand. 

JARVIS must not see what Peter’s about to do… 

Without hesitation, Peter grabs the tape from the shelf and heads back to the kitchen. He quickly rolls Tony onto his stomach and ties his hands behind his back with a shit ton of tape before wrapping even more tape around his ankles and – just in case – over his lips as well.

Then, Peter rushes to the cupboards to fetch a knife (or a pair of scissors, at least), whimpering when they don’t open. Although he knew the blackout wouldn’t cause them to unlock, he hoped that putting the power back on would reset the electric locks. Shit.

 _Plan C_ , _then._

Not feeling brave enough to threaten Tony with gouging his eyes out, Peter grabs the clothing iron from the storeroom and plugs it into a wall socket, choosing a medium temperature. Next, he turns on the TV and sets it to a volume high enough so that their neighbors won’t be able to hear them. 

Just when he’s finished, Tony seems to come to. Groaning, he squirms for a bit, but as he realizes that he’s tied up and gagged, he starts thrashing, rolling onto his back-

Only to freeze when he sees Peter standing there, trembling like a leaf. Tony’s eyes sparkle with fury as he tries to yell something through the tape, and despite the tension he’s feeling, Peter can’t help smirking for a second. _Payback, asshole._

Carefully, he comes closer and grabs Tony by his ankles, dragging him to the iron with difficulty. Tony’s heavier than Peter thought, and the fact that he’s struggling so much doesn’t make it easier. Scared shitless, Peter hesitates. What if Tony manages to overpower him despite being tied up? The man’s so much stronger than him…

_This was a mistake._

Beads of sweat build on Peter’s forehead as he desperately tries to fight down the anxiety attack threatening to overwhelm him. _Breath slowly, in….out… Come on, Peter. Come on… This is your only chance._ _It’s not like you can go back anyways…_

Gathering all his courage, Peter puts his foot on Tony’s crotch, pressing down. The man’s pupils dilate, and he groans in pain. However, he seems to take the hint because he stops squirming, so Peter kneels down and grabs the end of the tape, slowly ripping it off Tony’s mouth.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” the man spits as soon as he can speak, glaring at Peter, “I’m going to rip your fucking balls off and shove them down your-“

“W-With all due respect, s-sir, but you’re in no position to threaten me right n-now,” Peter stutters with as much confidence as he can muster. _Oh god. He’s so bad at this._ “J-Just tell me the code for the safe and I- I w-won’t hurt you.”

To his greatest annoyance, Tony starts _laughing_. “Wait, are you trying to get the _boat keys?_ You can’t be fucking serious. Did you plan all of this? Are you even sick?” Peter’s silence seems to be enough for Tony. “Jesus fucking Christ… How did you manage to deactivate the cameras without sounding the alarm?”

“B-By switching off the current, obviously.”

“Oh yeah? And why did the arc reactor malfunction?”

“You seem to forget I’ve worked on them with you… it was a piece of cake, honestly.” (Which is, in fact, the understatement of the year.) “N-Now stop playing for time and g-give me the fucking code.”

Busted, Tony chuckles. “Or what? Are you going to cry and bore me to death? Forget it, _slut_.”

This does it; before he knows it, Peter grabs the scorching hot iron and presses it against the left side of Tony’s face. The man starts screaming so loudly that Peter almost drops it in shock. Shaking all over, he withdraws the iron, wincing as he sees the damage he has done.

It’s even worse than Peter expected. The skin of Tony’s face looks scorched. _Shit._

Overcome with guilt, Peter swallows down an apology, reminding himself that Tony deserves all the pain in the world. “L-Let’s try that again, shall we? G-Give me the code.”

Gasping for air, Tony raises his head for a bit, trying to speak. Full of hope, Peter leans forward.

“ _F-F-Fuck you_ ,” Tony chokes out before spitting in Peter’s face _._ “You’re gonna have to fucking kill me because I ain’t gonna give it to you.”

Knowing the other Avengers would be here in a minute if Peter killed him, the boy drops the iron, bursting into tears. _Why did he think this would work?_ The plan is completely dependent on Tony’s cooperation, and Peter should have known Tony would rather die than allow him to escape. 

Against better judgment, Peter pointlessly starts begging. “P-Please, sir, j-just… just give me the code.” He buries his face in his hands, his body rocking from violent sobs. “Please… _T-Tony._ I- I can’t take this anymore, I w-want to go h-home. Please l-let me go home, _please!_ ”

For a while, there’s nothing but silence, but then- “I… I _can’t_.”

Surprised at how choked up Tony sounds, Peter peers through his fingers. Tony is... _crying_ too _._ Even though the boy can’t tell whether it’s from pain, fear or… pity (?) _,_ it somehow rekindles his urge to fight and not give up so easily.

If he surrenders, he’s fucked. If he kills Tony, he’s fucked.

Therefore, Peter might as well grow some balls and try to get Tony to talk after all. He just needs to overcome his _~~guilt~~_ fear and be more… convincing. Trembling, he unbuttons Tony’s pants. “Then you g-give me no other choice.”

“W-What are you doing?”

In silence, Peter yanks Tony’s pants and boxers down, exposing his cock and balls. The man’s eyes widen when Peter grabs the iron once more, bringing it near his crotch.

“S-Stop,” Tony croaks, squirming in panic as realization dawns, “P-Please.”

 _Jackpot._ Feeling a tiny bit of hope, Peter stares at him with determination. “L-Last chance. Give me the code.”

“The keys won’t help you, boy. It’s raining too heavily and it’s getting dark… you’ll barely see. My phone doesn’t work for you, t-there’s a protocol that prevents you from using it and without navigation, y-you’re going to die out there. But even- even if you managed to get to another island in one piece, we’d catch you before you found anyone you could ask for help.”

“Then there’s no reason for you not to give it to me.”

When Tony still hesitates, Peter brings the iron even closer. “ _F-Fuck_ , stop, please, o-oh god. All right. S-Sixteen, five, twenty… f-five, eighteen.”

Something about the numbers seems weird, but Peter can’t say what it is. With trembling legs, he rushes to the safe, entering the eight-digit code in the hopes it’s not a trick. He sighs in relief when it opens with a click, giving him access to the motorboat keys and the keys for the plane. Even though he’s sure they have spare ones somewhere, Peter takes both, as well as-

His heart pounds rapidly as his hand closes around Tony’s loaded gun. Peter has seen the man release the safety catch so many times he thinks he knows how to use it…Slowly, he takes it out and turns around to look at Tony, who is watching him grimly and full of fear. 

“D-Do it. I know you want to. Come on, show me that y-you have balls. Shoot me.”

Fresh tears run down Peter’s cheeks. Does he _want_ to? He doesn’t even know anymore, but it’s better not to let Tony know about his conflicting feelings. “This isn’t for you. Y-You told me about your bracelet, remember? I c-can’t risk JARVIS alerting the others.”

Looking both relieved and pissed that Peter didn’t take the bait, Tony asks, “Who is it for, then?”

“F-For me. Just in c-case.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Peter, please… Don’t be stupid. If you walk out that door, you’re signing your death sentence, one way or another. You’ll get lost or- r-run aground or hit a rock and flip over.”

“I won’t.”

“You will. L-Look… if you give up now, I will forgive you. I swear, I won’t hurt you. You know I keep my promises.”

When Peter snorts and crouches down to pick up the duct tape, Tony _starts crying_ again. “Please don’t- please don’t go. I’ll never hurt you again, I _promise_. W-We don’t have to go to Wakanda. We can stay here, if you want, j-just the two of use. _Please!”_

Peter gapes at him in disbelief. “W-Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

“B-Because… because-“ Tony stutters, apparently unable to come up with a reason. Snorting once again, Peter starts fiddling with the end of the tape, only to freeze when Tony whispers, “I... fucking love you, okay?”

It takes Peter’s overwhelmed mind a few seconds to comprehend what Tony just said. Even though he has seriously started to question the man’s feelings towards him over the last couple of weeks, he can’t fucking believe this. “ _L-Love_ me? How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid… N-Not at all. It’s the main reason why I- why this happened. I- I’m not lying. I swear on everyone and everything I care about. I love you, Peter… Please...”

In denial, Peter shakes his head. “This isn’t… _love._ You don’t even fucking know what _love_ is. If you really l-loved me, you wouldn’t have… h-hurt me all the time.”

“I- I know, but… I swear, it won’t happen again. Ever. I w-want you to be happy.”

“Then _let me go_ ,” Peter cries.

“I _can’t._ I can’t let you go. You w-would tell them everything and I c-can’t let that happen. I gotta protect my friends and… m-myself. M-Moreover, I don’t want to l-lose you. I deeply regret that this is how we had to meet, but- _Fuck._ It was nothing p-personal, Peter, please, I-”

“N-Nothing personal?” Peter asks in disbelief, tears streaming down his face. “You h-hurt me in ways I didn’t even know w-were possible, and y-you… you took _everything_ from me.”

“I- I know, I- Please, Peter, I never expected to… f-fall in love with you, but I did and I- I’m so fucking sorry. I'm n-not asking you to forgive me, but I am asking you to stay. _Please_. S-Stay with me…”

“Fuck you!” Peter yells before bursting into heart-wrenching sobs. “You don’t have any right to… a-ask anything of me. I could never love you, I… f-fucking _hate_ you!”

“You should know, though, that the opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference. If you hate me, then y-you do care about me and- we have a chance to m-make this work. Think about how m-much you’ve changed and how _good_ you have become… I know it wasn’t all lies. I know you, P-Peter... The real, new ‘you’. Nobody else does… Only I can give you what you really want.“

“H-How d-dare you even say that?” Peter sobs, clenching his fists. “Y-You have… n-no fucking idea about w-who I am and… what I want. I- I have people back home who _actually_ c-care about me... N-Not like you claim to do… You know what your problem is, _Tony?_ You have no idea what it feels like to truly care about anyone other than yourself. Or to have s-someone who truly cares about _you_. Ever since your mother died, you’ve been _alone_ , with nobody except your fake friends out there, who only put up with you because they’re _scared,_ and n-not because they actually _like_ you.”

As he continues to fiddle with the tape, Tony – obviously upset about Peter rejecting his love confession – changes his tactic and tries a new approach. “You can’t escape me, Peter. Even… Even if you managed to get to safety, which I doubt, I’ll always be with you. Wherever you go, whatever you do. Whatever you _think._ ”

“O-Oh yeah?” Peter hisses, digging his nail into the fucking tape. “Last time I checked I wasn’t the one who is _‘in love’_.”

Brimming with rage, Tony glares at him, one last tear falling from his right eye. “Oh, I’ll get over it soon enough, trust me. You know, I can easily get myself another _toy_. There are tons of boys like you out there, you’re… nothing special. At least, not anymore. Now you’re just _damaged goods._ Nobody will want you anymore, not even your fucking _bitch_. Everyone knows what happened to you… they all know you won’t be able to get it up unless you have my dick up your ass.”

Despite trying to block out his voice, Peter heard every second of it. And although he knows that Tony’s only saying all of these things to hurt him, he also knows that Tony is _right._ But it doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters is that he gets off this fucking island and tells May how much he loves her.

Having finally managed to rip the tape off the roll, he brings it close to Tony’s lips. Blatantly desperate, the man affronts Peter one last time. “Nothing you say or do will change the fact that I own you, _slut._ You’ll never be able to feel any sort of joy or… any kind of sexual pleasure without thinking about me.”

Crying, Peter puts the tape on his mouth. “N-Neither will you.”

Before he’s even registered what he’s doing, Peter’s has grabbed the iron and presses it against Tony’s cock and balls. He feels oddly empty as he listens to the struggling man’s muffled cries of agony, Tony’s words and what they imply still ring in his ears: _‘I can easily get myself another toy’._

Only once Tony stops struggling, Peter takes the iron away. Although it’s obvious the man has passed out, Peter knows he still needs to hurry. He’s wasted way too much time already. Besides, he has no idea if JARVIS can detect unconsciousness, so he shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.

After hesitating for a second, Peter decides to leave Tony’s phone behind. He believes Tony when he says that it wouldn’t work for him, so it won’t be of any use. Peter does, however, fetch the combat drone from the living room, planning to dump it into the ocean so they won’t be able to chase after him with it.

After one last glance at Tony and the house he’s come to call _home_ , Peter grabs Tony’s hooded jacket and hurries out the door. The burning in his eyes and throat irritates him... Why does he feel so weird? There’s no happiness inside of him - only fear and an odd kind of _sadness._

Whereas the rain has let a bit, it’s gotten a bit darker. It really won’t be easy to see, but Peter had to wait for a rainy day to make sure that the other Avengers wouldn’t be hanging out outside. Moreover, due to the poor visibility and Tony’s hooded jacket, any Avenger glancing out of their window will have difficulties recognizing that it’s Peter jogging towards the shore. Thank god he’s not limping for once.

To his greatest relief, he gets to the jetty without any problems. Leaning down, Peter struggles with the wet cord tying the motorboat to the dock, cursing whoever made the tight knot. To make it worse, his left hand decides to go numb on top of it. On the verge of a panic attack, Peter tries to insert the key into the other, smaller speed boat, but it doesn’t fit. 

Since trying to fly the plane is out of the question, Peter desperately releases the safety on the gun, aiming at the rope. However, he knows it would be stupid to shoot and alert the Avengers. Crying, he sinks to the wet wooden planks of the jetty, allowing the rain to pour down on his face as he tightens his grip on the gun. 

He never thought that after all the pain, all the suffering, that _this_ is how he’s going to die. So close, yet so far from getting away from this fucking hell… Just because of one fucking knot.

At least, it’s going to be painless.

For a wild second, Peter wonders if Tony will be _upset_ over his death or think he deserves no less for betraying and burning him.

For whatever reason, Peter reminisces about the evening Tony and he were sitting on this jetty, watching the sun go down. It was months ago… and the first time that Tony acted _different_ around him _._ The first time he kissed him without fucking him.

Was this… _it?_ The day that Tony started to have feelings for him? Or was it a lie after all – a desperate attempt to convince Peter to give up?

Well, it doesn’t matter. Peter doesn’t know what damage he has done to Tony’s private parts, but it’s guaranteed that Tony will kill him if Peter goes back, whether he loves him or not.

Lifting the gun, Peter presses it to his temple. A scared sob escapes his throat, and just when he moves his finger to pull the trigger, he _remembers-_

 _The bottle._ Peter dropped a beer bottle when Tony kissed him.

His heart races when he jumps up and dashes off to the end of the jetty. He carefully puts down the gun and rips his soaked jacket off his body before climbing down the metal ladder. The water is a little too deep for him to stand, so Peter takes one deep breath and dives down. 

His eyes _burn_ and it’s extremely difficult to see. Fortunately, though, Peter remembers where he dropped the bottle, and at the third attempt, he manages to feel the bottle out in the sand and digs it up, about to cry in relief.

Being able to use both hands properly again, Peter climbs the ladder back up before shattering the bottle on the jetty, wincing a bit at the clash. It was loud, but not nearly as loud as a gunshot would have been. Luckily, he finds three rather big and sharp pieces in the pile of shards. Not caring about cutting open his own palm, Peter works on the rope, breaking into sobs of relief when he gets it loose.

Knowing he’s wasted way too much time, he grabs the gun, the drone and the jacket before jumping into the boat, pushing it away from the jetty.

On the day of the wedding, Peter paid close attention to Thor driving the boat, and even unobtrusively asked him a few things when Tony, Steve and Bucky were walking around that island with King T’Challa. Now’s the time to see if he really knows how to read the controls – especially, _the compass._

Taking a few deep breaths, Peter copies the motions he watched Thor do. After starting the engine, he gently pushes the throttle handle forward until he can feel it shift into gear. Peter’s heart is pounding rapidly as he spins the wheel and slowly steers the boat away, his eyes fixed on the dashboard. He needs to go southwest…

When the boy realizes how bad visibility actually is, he can’t help thinking back at Tony’s words. _‘You’ll get lost or run aground or hit a rock and flip over’._ If Loki had not told him where to go and that the water will most likely be ‘safe’, Peter would have never dared to do this.

The 20 knots he eventually settles on feel dangerous, especially because it’s getting darker by the minute and the sea isn’t as smooth as it normally is. However, he needs to be fast, and at this speed it will take him only 15 minutes to get to the other island.

After setting the course, Peter tries to calm down by slowly breathing in and out. Despite driving off to safety now, he still doesn’t feel any sort of joy. Instead, he’s just… _terrified._

Less terrified about what will await him if he fails, and more about what will await him if he _succeeds._

Lately, his life with Tony has become an almost peaceful routine. Peter knew what was expected of him at any given time, and he knew how he needed to act to avoid punishment. How is he supposed to know how to behave without Tony around?

The thought is so shocking, that for a second, Peter wants to turn the boat around and drive back. _Tony's right -_ He’s not the same boy he was when Tony kidnapped him. Nobody knows him anymore, except for the man he left behind. The man, who - for a short moment - selflessly tried to talk Peter into shooting him, just so that his friends will be alerted and thwart Peter’s escape plan.

Once again, Peter feels horrified and guilty for what he did, only to reprimand himself right after. _He needs to get over his fucking Stockholm Syndrome._ Tony deserves all the pain in the world. He deserves to _die -_ or at least, rot in a prison cell for the rest of his miserable life.

Glancing at the dashboard, Peter notices he’s already driven four miles. Through the somewhat misty rain, he can now see the outline of an island. In the hopes that it’s the right one, Peter trims the boat to ten, then five knots.

 _Five…_ Tony’s safe had two “fives” in it… And all of a sudden, Peter realizes what’s so weird about it. Tony didn’t tell him the code by saying ‘one, six, five, two, zero’ and so on. Instead, he said ‘sixteen, five, twenty, five, eighteen’. And these… aren’t simple numbers. Going by the letters of the alphabet, they form a word – more specifically, a _name._

_Peter._

Tony chose Peter’s name as a mnemonic for his digital code lock.

When Peter’s vision blurs, it takes him a while to realize that it has nothing to do with the rain. Trying to keep himself together, the boy wipes the tears out of his eyes before pulling the throttle back to a neutral position and killing the engine. Realizing he’s way too fast, the boy turns the wheel to drift along the somewhat ragged looking beach in front of him.

Having forgotten about the drone until now, Peter quickly dumps it into the ocean, though not before cutting off the arc reactor with one of the beer bottle shards. It doesn’t make any sense, but Peter suddenly feels emotionally attached to it. He doesn’t want it to be lost at sea…

After stuffing the arc reactor and the biggest glass shard into the back pockets of his shorts, Peter grabs the gun and jumps from the still moving boat, wading to the shore. With his heart pounding so rapidly he can feel it in his throat, Peter staggers towards the trees and bushes that separate the beach from whatever lays behind. He almost faints when he sees that a few yards away from the burned grass is a _marked_ _road._

It has gotten too dark to see far, and since he can’t see any lights, Peter can’t tell if there are any houses nearby. Keeping his head low, Peter starts walking south, praying it’s the right direction. With every yard he walks he feels more anxious, panicked, even. Has Tony regained consciousness? Are the Avengers already looking for him?

Maybe he should make use of the last few minutes of daylight and try to get the tracker out of his arm while he still can... Desperately, Peter takes off the jacket, trying to make out the faint scar he got from Tony injecting the microchip into his body.

Just when he takes out the shard, he can hear a distant noise behind him. Panicking, Peter looks for a place to hide. He’s already started to dash for the tree line when he realizes-

It’s a _car._

For a second Peter hesitates. Theoretically, it could be the Avengers… They could have chased after him with the seaplane and changed into a car, but… No. _He needs to take the risk._ It might be his only chance.

Gathering all his courage, Peter runs back to the road, jumping up and down with waving arms. The car slows down, but the headlights blind him too much to make out who’s driving it. Eventually, it comes to a stop a few yards away from him. When the door opens, Peter involuntarily steps back, about to take out the gun and-

“Kid, are you all right?”

It’s a black woman speaking in what could be Bahamian English. Glancing out from under her umbrella, she looks warily at Peter.

“I- I…”

“Do you need help?”

“Y-Yes, I- P-Please, you need to help me, Ma’am, I- I have a tracker in my arm and you n-need to cut it out, please, or they w-will find and kill me and-“

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“P-Please, _we need to hurry!”_ Peter sobs, on the verge of a panic attack. When he hears the woman say something to the man inside of the vehicle that sounds like ‘junkie’, Peter loses it. “I- I’m not a j-junkie, I- I’ve been kidnapped, p-please, you gotta h-help me.”

Sighing, the woman makes a move to climb back into the car. Not knowing what else to do, Peter dashes forward.

“P-Please, m-my name is Peter Parker and I got kidnapped s-six months ago from New York. M-Maybe the police knows who I am, c-can you please call them?”

The woman stops moving. Instead, she now stares at Peter in shock as realization dawns. “P-Peter Parker, you say? No, that’s… _oh my god._ ” And suddenly she’s right in front of Peter, staring at his face with wide eyes. “Charles! Y-You gotta see this.”

Peter winces when the second door opens and a caucasian man gets out, coming over. “Oh my god, he’s- he’s that kid from the news.”

Only now Peter remembers that Tony has been spotted in Nassau a few months ago. Gaining hope, Peter gives it another try. “T-Tony Stark… the Avengers, they- they injected a GPS tracker into my skin. R-Right here.” He points at his upper arm. “I n-need to get it out or they’ll hunt m-me down in no time and k-kill me.”

When Peter holds up the shard with his bloody hand, the couple snaps out of it. Suddenly, they seem _terrified._ “Holy shit, Galy, call the police and… s-sorry, boy, but that’s all we can do.”

The man hurries back to the car, but Galy hesitates. “Charles… He’s a _child_.”

“No, I’m not- Sorry, but if they can track him- I- I don’t want to get involved in this. The police can pick him up and d-deal with this, but- No, we ain’t no heroes, come on.”

“Please, M-Ma’am,” Peter sobs, offering her the shard. “Please d-don’t go. Please help me.”

“Shit, I- All right. Charles, we’re taking him to the clinic, it’s only a two-minute drive. They can do an X-ray and-“

“T-There’s no time for that,” Peter whines, “J-Just cut it out. _Please.”_

“Galy, come on!” Charles urges, and when the woman slowly climbs back into the passenger seat, Peter loses the ability to think rationally.

In sheer panic, he takes out the gun and holds it against the side of his upper arm. Closing his eyes, Peter pulls the trigger, the deafening sound of the shot drowning out the woman’s terrified scream.

_Epilogue_

May is asleep when the phone on her nightstand vibrates. Startled, she picks it up, glancing at the caller ID. _Maria Hill._ Why is Maria calling her shortly after midnight? _Did they… catch Stark?_ Her breath catches as she answers the call. “Yes?”

“May, thank god. Sorry for calling so late, but… we found Peter!”

May’s stomach turns. Although she does feel relieved that they managed to recover his body, she can’t find it in herself to be as cheerful as Maria seems to be. It makes his death even more final, somewhat.

“… O-Oh. Um. H-How? I mean… did a boat find him or… w-was his body washed on shore?”

“No, you don’t understand. Peter… He’s alive.”

* * *

**Update:** Click here for the [SEQUEL! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178190/chapters/63701257)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you scream at me for the short Epilogue: That’s because I’m tempted to write a third part 👀 ~~I just can't let things go lmao~~ Anyone up for finding out how Peter copes with his trauma, if the Avengers get caught and if Peter and Tony will see each other again? 💕
> 
>  **Update 08/29:** Click here for the [SEQUEL! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178190/chapters/63701257)
> 
> If not, then I hope you’re somewhat satisfied with the finale. Part of me is upset with myself for letting Peter escape and scar Tony (yes, I developed a little Stockholm Syndrome lol), but if you re-read this story, I’m sure you’ll remember why Tony deserves it. No matter how much I enjoyed writing the dynamic between Peter and Tony, it was inevitable for me that Peter either escapes or dies – anything else would have left an open ending, sort of. Although I think that Peter dying would have made a more realistic, “better” ending, I just couldn’t kill him. It was always supposed to be a story of survival.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has taken this journey with me. I never expected to get 400+ subscribers on this 😱 Without you I would have never found the motivation to write and update _weekly_ for almost a year (!). I am so grateful for all of your kudos and **comments** 💕💕 You even inspired me to the one or other plot point.
> 
> Take care, everyone, and please tell me what you think of the ending and whether you would be in for a **part 3** and/or more chapters for the [One Shot & Drabble fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751497/chapters/62536747) 💕


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